BRUKENTHALIA Romanian Cultural History Review Supplement of

Transcription

BRUKENTHALIA
Romanian Cultural History Review
Supplement of Brukenthal. Acta Musei
No. 3
2013
BRUKENTHALIA
Revistă Română de Istorie Culturală
Supliment al Revistei Brukenthal. Acta Musei
Advisory Board
Francis CLAUDON, Professor, ‗Val de Marne‘ University of Paris, France
Dennis DELETANT, Professor, ‗Georgetown‘ University of Washington D.C.
Hans-Christian MANER, Professor, ‗Johannes Gutenberg‘ University of Mainz
Pascal ORY, President of Association pour le Développement de l'Histoire Culturelle (ADHC)
Professor, 1 Panthéon–Sorbonne University of Paris
Zoe PETRE, Professor emeritus, University of Bucharest
Alexandru-Florin PLATON, Professor, ‗Alexandru Ioan Cuza‘ University, Iaşi
David D. SMITH, Professor, University of Aberdeen
Tony WALTER, Professor, University of Bath, Great Britain
Editor-in-Chief
Adrian Sabin LUCA, Professor, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University, Sibiu
General Manager of Brukenthal National Museum, Sibiu
Senior Editor
Mihaela GRANCEA, Professor, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University, Sibiu
Editors
Ecaterina LUNG, Professor, University of Bucharest
Andi MIHALACHE, Researcher, ‗Alexandru D. Xenopol‘ Institute for History, Iaşi
Radu-Ciprian ŞERBAN, PhDc, ‗1 Decembrie 1918‘ University, Alba-Iulia
Alexandru MAMINA, Researcher, ‗Nicolae Iorga‘ Institute for History, Bucharest
Alexandru SONOC, Curator, Brukenthal National Museum, Sibiu
Andrada FĂTU-TUTOVEANU, PhD, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University, Cluj Napoca
Anca FILIPOVICI, PhD, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University, Cluj Napoca
Editorial assistant
Radu-Ciprian ŞERBAN
PhDc, ‗1 Decembrie 1918‘ University, Alba-Iulia
BRUKENTHAL NATIONAL MUSEUM
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MUZEUL NAŢIONAL BRUKENTHAL
BRUKENTHALIA
No. 3
EDITURA MUZEULUI NAŢIONAL BRUKENTHAL
Sibiu/Hermannstadt 2013
Editorial Policies and Instructions to Contributors
The review Brukenthalia receives contributions under the form of unpublished research
papers, review papers written in English. The field of interest is Cultural History. The editors
alone are responsible for every final decision on publication of manuscripts. The editors may
suggest changes in the manuscript. Such changes are not to be made without consultation with
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e-mail: mihaela_grancea2004@yahoo.com
ISSN 2285 - 9497
ISSN-L 2285 - 9489
Table of Contents
A. STUDIES
Mircea-Sever Roman
Considerations about the Sumerian-Akkadian Nether World
Mihai Dragnea
Slavic and Greek-Roman Mythology, Comparative Mythology
Ligia Boldea
Examining the Status of the Noble Women in 16th-17th Century Banat
Mihaela Tivdă
The Influence of Italian Masters toward the Masques of Inigo Jones (17th Century)
Dragoş Sdrobiş
How to Convert Privileges into Rights? The Modern Romanian Elite Genesis during 19th Century
Elena Andreea Trif-Boia
Stranger’s Hypostases in the Transylvanian Romanian Imaginary of the 19th Century
Alexandru Nicolaescu
Historiographical Discourse in Transylvania Magazine (1868-1895)
Maria Danilov
Bessarabian Contributions to the Study of the Romanian Language in the Context of Slavic Culture
(the 19th Century)
Georgeta Fodor
The Emergence of a New Educational Model during the Long Nineteenth Century. A Study Case:
Children’s Education
Anca Filipovici
Multispeed Modernization in Interwar Romania. On Decadence and Complexes of a Peripheral
Province – Norhtern Moldavia
Valeria Soroştineanu
Two Patriarchs in Jerusalem (1927)
Diana Mihaela Păunoiu
Carlist Propaganda and National Holiday: Restoration and Youth’s Day (1938-1940)
Mihaela Grancea
Death and the System Perceptions of the Leader’s Death in Stalinist Romania
Olga Grădinaru
The Soviet Hero-Making Process. Aspects of the Soviet Heroism
Marius Silveşan
The Intellectuals in the Evangelical Churches during the Communist regime
Marian Coman
Provincia Magazine, Identity Projection and Regionalism of the Transylvanian Intellectuals
Viorella Manolache
An Indication of Option: Bio-Power
Andi Mihalache
Miniature Memories. ‘Small Patrimonies’ in Romanian Post-Communist Memoirs
Maria Nicoleta Ciocian
The Bible – Source of Postmodern Literature (Scriptural Quotation in Contemporary Literature)
Dana Percec
Food Fantasy. The Rise of a Genre
Rodica Grigore
Andrei Codrescu and the/His New Scheherazade
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20
28
36
46
53
62
68
73
83
90
98
107
114
123
133
154
161
180
191
202
B. REVIEWS AND SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITY
Christine A. Mallin
Corporate Governance (Oana Albescu)
Andi Mihalache, Adrian Cioflâncă (editors)
The Recent History Otherwise: Cultural Perspective (Olga Grădinaru)
Dominique Méda
A review of Le travail: From Labor Society toward Consumer Society (For a Cultural History of
Labor) (Dragoş Sdrobiş)
Huub van Baar, Ingrid Commandeur (editors)
Museutopia. A Photographic Re-search Project by Ilya Rabinovich: The Post-Soviet Museum:
History Ruptures, Memory Continuities (Ludmila Cojocaru)
Cultural History. Journal of the ISCH
Cultural History. Journal of the International Society for Cultural History, Volume 1, Numbers 1
and 2/2012 (Alexandru Ilie Munteanu)
Artefacts Culture and Identity. International History for Cultural History Annual Conference
(Radu-Ciprian Şerban)
208
209
213
216
219
225
A. STUDIES
Considerations about the Sumerian-Akkadian Nether World
Mircea-Sever ROMAN
Student at Babeş-Bolyai University
College of International Relationships and European Studies
E-mail: michaelroman7@yahoo.com
Abstract. The foundations of the European and American Judeo-Christian civilizations are to be
found in the Ancient Near East or, more precisely, in the Sumerian-Akkadian world-view. The Eastern
Weltanschauung migrated to Europe – and influenced it greatly – via commerce, military conquests and
cultural exchanges. Part of this Weltanschauung was the eschatology, which can be identified in the
discourse of the Easterners about the nether world and in their thanatological rituals. Inferno of the
Sumerian-Akkadians is the ‗forefather‘ of all Infernos from the Ancient Near East and, accordingly, of
the Judeo-Christian hell. Studying the way the Sumerians would fancy the nether world can be used as a
basis for studying other infernos. The essay will also take into consideration the infernal gods and the
demonic spirits and, since the ancients believed in a hereafter, the paper also presents life after death, as
the Sumerian-Akkadians would imagine it.
Key words: Ancient Near East, hell, infernal gods, demonic spirits
This essay is going to present some
considerations about the Sumerian-Akkadian
nether world, known in the thought, culture and
civilization history. The essay is going to
approach the Sumerian-Akkadian pandemonium
– deities and infernal spirits – and will deal with
life in Inferno as the ancients would see it.
First of all, in order to discuss about the
Mesopotamian Inferno or Netherworld, it has to
be situated from the cosmological perspective. It
is useful to know that in Mesopotamian thought,
in an undistinguished manner, cosmogony was
interlaced with theogony but, nevertheless, we
can not talk about a ‗cosmo-theogony‘: when the
deities appeared, they did personify the material
universe, but were not its constitutive parts
(Banu 1967, 66).
In the Mesopotamian religiosity, the
Universe was created by the heavenly god An
and the chthonic goddess Ki, which were born
embraced, representing the ‗masculine element‘
and the ‗feminine element‘. Together, they form
the visible Cosmos, An-Ki (1), with an ovoid
shape, surrounded by the cosmic ocean, as
showed in cosmographic images. The
cosmogonic tradition from Nippur differs from
the one in Eridu, claiming that the rest of the
great gods have been born thanks to the unity of
these primeval gods (Pritchard et alii 2011, 64).
In this Cosmos there is the earthly ocean
that borders the earth, which is like a boat turned
over. At the end of the Earth there are some
Introduction
This essay will attempt to build a bridge in
time, a bridge that goes from us, the modern
people to an extinct Weltanschauung: the
Sumerian-Akkadian world-view. We will focus
on the nether world, as the Mesopotamians used
to fancy it. Yet, our essay will not start with a
discussion on the topic properly, but will cast
some light on the human soul: as Lucian Boia
said, in the human mental structure there is a
conviction that
The material body of the human being is
doubled by an independent and immaterial
element (double, spirit, soul, etc.) (which – our
note) continues somehow its existence after
death. Indestructible and deathless, the ‗double‘
settles in the realm that is (…) closer and open
to the world of the living (the cult of the
ancestors at the primitive communities) (…). It
lives the diminished life of a shadow, no matter
what the merits or the previous sins were (the
classic Inferno) (…). Between the life of the
living and that of the dead, the delimitation has
been never absolute; there are gates that allow
the passing of some chosen ones to the other
side (…). But the spirits may be among us, they
may manifest themselves and be contacted, faith
perpetuated from ancient times until the modern
spiritualism (Boia 2000, 30-31).
The historian cited above is not mistaken:
the existing conceptions of inferno in all
civilizations and which have evolved with each
one of them prove him right, as Georges Minois
wrote (Minois 1998, 7).
(1) In Egypt, the primal Sky-Earth was made of Nut
and Geb.
9
mountains that support the sky and that,
probably, through the bottom of the earthly
ocean, are united with the earth. Underneath this
world there is an abyss in which the nether
world is placed, Inferno.
As far as the names of the SumerianAkkadian nether world, as elements that clarify
partially the manner in which Mesopotamians
were representing Inferno, they will be dealt
with at the point that discusses Inferno properly.
We will now take a look at the way
Sumerian-Akkadians would represent their
divinities which populated the nether world, its
description and the way of life of the humans
there.
town of Cutha (Walton 2006, 337), and his
representative star was Mars.
Wedding in Hell and ‘the Downward Elevation’
The Sumerian mythology talks about a
wedding in Hell (Pritchard et alii 2011, 83-92)
which took place in the following
circumstances: the gods organised a feast where
Ereshkigal was invited, but Inferno deity did not
attend it. We are not aware of her reasons –
probably photophobia, conceit or hatred - but
she did send Namtar, her vizier, to the feast.
When Namtar arrived at the feast, the gods
showed him due honour, but god Nergal failed
to do this on purpose, thus offending Namtar.
We do not know the reason for Nergal‘s
behaviour – was it because the goddess had not
come in person and sent someone else? Victor
Kernbach speculates on this subject:
Although in Mesopotamian myths there
were certain rigorously formal reports between
the celestial and infernal gods, based on mutual
respect and ceremonial politeness, nevertheless,
this time the other gods become mad and send,
as retaliations against Ereshkigal‘s sister Nergal,
the god of war (…) (Kernbach 1989, 171).
Is it possible that Nergal had the secret
intention to conquer the realm of darkness and
chose to offend the infernal emissary in order to
be sent by the other gods to the Inferno, where
he was to explain his behaviour? Anyway, the
gods sent Nergal to the Inferno, and the canny
god Enki taught Nergal how to act so that he
would not remain captive there.
Therefore, on being sent to Ereshkigal, he
took 14 of his soldiers and descended into the
Inferno, starting a methodical and carefully
planned war that even a modern soldier would
be proud to wage. Victor Kernbach continues to
recount:
...at the first gate he sets ‗the shining
flash‘; at the second, ‗the exhausting fever‘; at
the third, ‗the destroying flame‘; at the fourth,
‗the guard‘ etc., and nobody opposes him, not
even Namtar, the demon of the plague, who is
most faithful to his goddess; it is exactly he who
opens the bolts to Nergal, and the warrior god
pulls the goddess by her hair and drags her down
off the throne. When he is about to cut her head
off, she asks him to wait till she tells him about
an essential proposal; amazed by the unexpected
humility of the goddess, Nergal accepts to listen
to her and he is asked to marry her and be given
all of hell as dowry. Since he likes the domain
and suddenly falls in love with the goddess,
Nergal kisses her and sits down on the throne
next to her, becoming a co-proprietor and king
of the nether world, and the only god who, after
The Infernal Gods
The Goddess Ereshkigal
In the Sumerian-Akkadian Pantheon, the
goddess Ereshkigal was the daughter of the
Moon God, Nanna(r)/ Suen and of the goddess
Ningal. When she was little, this solar deity was
kidnapped by the dragon Kur and taken to the
nether world, enthroned there as queen (1) and
becoming thus the ‗Lady of the great country‘.
She is a ‗cruel, unfair and merciless queen, not
knowing mercy or love. In the conception of the
entire Mesopotamia, she is frightful to men and
gods alike‘ (Kernbach 1989, 171).
She married Gugal-ana, the ‗Bull of An
(Sky)‘. When the king-hero Gilgamesh refused
queen‘s Inanna advances, Gugal-ana was sent to
punish him, but Gilgamesh and Enkidu killed
him and dismembered him, and Ereshkigal
became a widow.
She is represented in the presence of lions
and owls (2).
The God Nergal/ Irkalla Represented as the
Celestial God
The god Nergal is one of the children of
the celestial couple Enlil – Ninlil, being
represented as a powerful, handsome man with a
strange mien. Initially, this god was a celestial
one, patron of midday, of the summer solstice,
of heat and solar fire. He also personified
pestilence, destruction and war.
Later, the Akkadians named him Irkalla,
Inferno, and the Assyrians Erra. The general of
his army was Ishum. His cult is centred in the
(1) See http://www.demonicpedia.com/demons/ eresh
kigal/accessed on March, 24, 2013.
(2) See http://www.goddessaday.com/mesopotamian/
ereshkigal and http://www.babylon-rising.com/
ereshkigal.html accessed on March, 24, 2013.
10
translated as ‗Lady of the Flawlessly Grown
Branch‘ (6).
The name Ningishzida is translated as
‗Lord of the Productive/ Steadfast Tree‘
(Alexander et alii 2003, 736-739). But when we
talk about any tree, we need to include in the
picture its long, complicated roots, penetrating
deep into the earth. Probably due to this root
system a system of connections with the
underworld was established, symbolic of
infernal character of god Ningishzida…
According to the myth of Gilgamesh, Enkidu
and the Nether World (7), Ningishzida, the snake
immune to incantations, is curled among the
roots of the World Tree, the tree placed in the
centre of the Universe, the axis mundi. In this
shape of a big snake, dragon or basilisk curled
among the roots of the World Tree, he is a god
of vitality (Chevalier, Gheerbrant 1995, 299) (8):
(8): he has the power to extract life from the
ground, he renders nature fruitful and he may
heal people. Actually, there is a famous
character who claimed that he had been healed
by the god Ningishzida, namely Gudea, the
governor of Lagash in the 21st century B.C.E.
He was considered a ruler in the
netherworld and the throne-bearer of the earth
(Alexander et alii 2003, 736-739).
Ningishzida, the dragon or the serpent-god
was sometimes also represented as a bull, the
symbol of force and fertility.
The dragon Ningishzida copulates with
Zertur or Sirtur, whose name means ‗young
maiden‘ or perhaps ‗virgin‘ (Albright, 1967,
193). The virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and shall call his name Dumu-zid-abzu, the
‗Faithful Son of the Underworld Ocean (of fresh
water)‘. This son is also named Dumuzi, the
‗Righteous Young Man‘.
Ningishzida and Dumuzi are considered
gods of the vegetation that sprouts from the
earth, and they are also the pair of guardians to
the gates of Heaven (Kernbach 1989, 205,
Pritchard 2011, 75). Thus, Ningishzida, the
serpent-god and ‗Lord of the Productive/
Steadfast Tree‘, given his stick as the axis mundi
descending into Hell, has succeeded in staying
alive (Kernbach, 1989, 418).
Therefore, Ereshkigal puts an end to her
widowhood by marrying Nergal, who is her
uncle, Nanna(r)/Suen‘s brother. Thus, the
celestial god Nergal becomes the infernal god,
ruler of the Netherworld together with
Ereshkigal the goddess, who, nevertheless, has a
superior status. In this way, the god is ascended
in function, promoted to the position of king, but
placed in the lowest regions of the Earth, thus
benefiting from what I think fit to call a
‗downward elevation‘.
We may say that in the Ereshkigal‘s
marriage with Nergal, the active forces of
pestilence, destruction and war are unified with
more passive forces of death (Holland, 2010,
162). It is worth mentioning that this myth is the
only love story that takes place in the dead realm
and has a happy ending for the protagonists (1).
Namtar, the Angel of Death
Namtar is the vizier of Ereshkigal the
goddess. The name of this god (dingir) is
translated as ‗fate‘, and he is the demonic god of
pestilence. Later, in Semitic mythology, he
appears as the angel of death. Namtar was the
herald of the goddess and the concocter of rules.
He is said to be surrounded by demons
(Kernbach 1989, 413) (2).
Ningishzida and Dumuzi, the Celestial and
Infernal Dragon-Gods
We are to present now some intriguing
gods that show similar features to Satan, the
biblical serpent: the god Ninigishzzida,
Ningishzida or Gizzida, and the god Dumuzi.
The god Ningishzida is the patron of the
settlement of Gishbanda, near the city-state Ur.
We do not know precisely who his parents were:
it is possible that his father was Ereshkigal (3) or
Ninazu (4), and his mother was Ningir(id)da (5),
while his wife was (Nin)Azimua, a name
(1) http://www.gatewaystobabylon.com/religion/nerg
alereshkigal2000.htm accessed on 26.3.2013.
(2) See also http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/to
pic/376937/Mesopotamian-religion/68267/Myths
#ref559313 accessed on 26.3.2013.
(3) Ereshkigal was the goddess of the Inferno, a feminine divinity, but the Sumerian deities could be
androgynous and bisexual.
(4) ‗A balbale to Ningishzida A‘, line 36, on http://
etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgibin/etcsl.cgi?text=t.4.19.1# accessed on March,
26, 2013.
(5) Ibidem.
(6) http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/415
722/Ningishzida and http://www.sacred-texts.
com/ ane/sum/sum07.htm, accessed on March, 26,
2013.
(7) http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi? text=
t.1.8.1.4# accessed on March, 27, 2013.
(8) Appealing to the Chaldean and Arabic language,
René Guénon proves our point: ‗Chaldeans had a
single word for life and snake‘; ‗snake symbolism
is tied up to the very idea of life; in Arabic, snake
is el-nayyah, and life el-hayat.‘
11
and his quality of gatekeeper, was later taken
over by other cultures: for example, in Greek
mythology, he was valued as Hermes, while his
stick was called the Caduceus. The fact that
Ningishzida was a gatekeeper was also
conveyed in one of the functions Hermes had,
that of proopylaios, ‗gatekeeper‘1.
In his shape of gatekeeper, god
Ningishzida prefigures god Janus bifrons, the
two-faced Janus, the bifacial god from Heaven,
who opens and closes the gates of prayers that
people address to gods, but who is also present
in Inferno, permitting or refusing access there.
Therefore, the reptilian character of
Ningishzida, the serpent-god, is obvious, but
Dumuzi is no different: a liturgical title given to
Dumuzi is Ama-ushumgal-anna, where ama
means ‗mother‘, ushumgal means ‗big snake,
dragon‘, and anna has its root in an, the heaven.
Ama-ushumgal-anna is translated as ‗MotherPython of Heaven‘ (Albright 1967, 193). In late
Sumerian liturgies Dumuzi was homologated as
Sataran – ‗The Serpent Goddess‘.
In later literary works Ningishzida fades in
the background; a lot is dedicated to Dumuzi in
his character of healer, as well as divine
shepherd, but also a mortal masculine
representative of fertility.
Later, Dumuzi passes into other cultures,
integrally or in several forms, being named
Tammuz in Mesopotamia, Osiris in Egypt,
Adonis in Syria and the later Hellenist world,
Attis in Asia Minor, Dionysus in the Hellenist
world, Bacchus and maybe Janus in the Roman
world. For example, in the Bible, in the book of
Ezekiel, 8:14, the paganised Israelites worship
him in the annual ritual named taklimtu.
This tendency of myths to cluster around
selected figures is clearly due to the dramatic
quality of the cycles in question, which tended
to spread and to oust or to absorb all rivals
(Albright 1967, 195).
Essentially, the demons were inferior to
the gods. Yet, in an imperfect, unclear way,
these beings would share in the divine and, even
if in their quality they were inferior to the gods,
still they were superior to the human beings.
In the Sumerian thought the demons or the
spirits (in Sumerian, udug (2); Akkadian, utukku)
utukku) would be divided into evil demons,
edimmu or ekimmu, which were the greatest
majority of the demons, and šēdu, good spirits,
willing to help people after having instituted
personal covenants with them.
Edimmu/ Ekimmu, the ‘Divine’ Bad Demons
In their greatest majority, the demons
were evil beings. They would dwell in Galla/
Irkalla and, when coming onto Earth, they
would act cruelly. They knew nothing about
compassion and no offering would stop them
from accomplishing their mission. For instance,
this is what is written about them in the poem
called ‗Dumuzids dream‘
The Demonic Spirits
In this part of the essay I will discuss the
Sumerian-Akkadian pandemonium, i.e., the
demons in whose existence and actions the
inhabitants of the Mesopotamian basin believed.
As the gods would have a certain
hierarchy, so would the demons, but although a
far less accurate one.
Those who come for the king are a motley
crew,
Who know not food,
Who know not drink,
Who eat no sprinkled flour,
Who drink no poured water,
Who accept no pleasant gifts,
Who do not enjoy a wife's embraces,
Who never kiss dear little children,
Who never chew sharp-tasting garlic,
Who eat no fish,
Who eat no leeks (3).
The Arch-Demon Kur/ Asag
Among many other characters, the
Sumerian-Akkadian mythology speaks about the
demon Kur. His name is translated by
‗mountain‘, but the semantic field of this noun
overlaps partially with that of the word ki-gal,
‗the great below‘. He dwells in Hell, which is
the region immediately below the primordial
sweet waters.
The myths would present him as a
demonic winged dragon that is very similar to
the way the apocalyptic dragon is seen in the
popular variant of Christianity.
He is the patron of all illnesses and
sickness in the world. He dries up wells and
covers the earth with sores into which it squirts
(1) See A. L. Frothingham, Babylonian Origin of
Hermes the Snake-God, and of the Caduceus I, on
http://www.jstor.org/stable/497115 accessed on
29.3.2013.
(2) http://texts.00.gs/Utukku_Lemnutu,_1-7.htm, accessed on 29.3.2013.
(3) ‗Dumuzid's dream, http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgibin/etcsl.cgi?text=t.1.4.3#, accessed on 29.3.2013.
12
poison (1) and mates with mountains which
beget demons of stone.
This arch-demon is malevolent: he
kidnaps Ereshkigal, and he and his progeny
attack the pantheon. He is opposed either by the
god Enki (2), or by the goddess Inanna, or, most
often, by Ninurta, the god of war (3), who
defeats the dragon by hitting him with the
enchanted cudgel and with his flashlights and
thunders.
Kur will be called more often Asag (in
Akkadian, Asakku).
From the standpoint of the diffusion of the
myths, the war of the god Ninurta against the
arch-demon Kur is a replica of the war the
younger gods had waged against Abzu, the
primeval god. Thus, the initial war passed on
into the myth about the war of the god Ninurta
against the arch-demon Kur and later it spread,
as Samuel Noah Kramer wrote, ‗to almost all
peoples and into all ages‘ (4): it is possible that
these are the roots of the conception about the
earthly divinities attacking the celestial gods,
and the titanomachy that follows. Later on, in
Enuma Elish, the well-known Babylonian epic
of creation, Ninurta will be identified with the
god Marduk, the valiant champion who comes to
rescue the gods under attack, and while Kur, the
dragon, will be replaced by the hideous Tiamat.
The Greeks have also taken over this
myth: in his Theogony, Hesiod spoke about the
Titans waging war against the celestial gods and
about Zeus from Heaven hurling his lightning
and bolts against the giants (5), while in the
Christianised paganism we see Saint George
slaying the dragon.
Concerning the motif of the beautiful
maiden abducted but rescued by a hero who
slains the dragon, it appears later replicated in
myths (6), fairy-tales (7) and medieval epics (8).
Anunnaki, the Infernal Administrative Divinities
In the nether world Galla/Irkalla there
were some more divine demons: the seven
Anunnaki. They were ‗royal offspring‘,
‗secondary divinities, artisans consecrated to
construction and destruction, working by order
and having no initiative of their own‘ (Kernbach
1989, 35). It seems that initially these divinities
belonged to heaven, for their name contains the
particle An(u), ‗sky‘, but later, somehow, they
became gods of the Underworld (Holland 2010,
113).
In the beginning Anunnaki, the inferior
gods, would toil for the higher gods but after
men were created and put to work, they were set
free.
Yet, they do have some administrative
functions: they govern the first of the three
judgement rooms from the Ekalgina palace
(Daniel, Acsan 1981, 68) in the nether world,
checking the lists so that access is permitted
only to those who are dead, buried and taught
about the rules of the region (Walton, 2006, 318,
328).
Other Infernal Gods
Other infernal gods are Neti, the chief of
the guardians of the gates of the netherworld
(Daniel, Acsan 1981, 124), Alû, who has neither
mouth, nor ears, is androgynous and strikes
people in the chest suffocating them (9), and
Ninki, Endukugga, Nindukugga, Enmul,
Ninmul, relatives of the god Enlil (Daniel,
Acsan 1981, 125).
The bird Zu/ Anzu(d)/ Imdugud
This is a winged creature, probably a lionheaded eagle. It is a divine storm-bird or a
thunder-bird (10).
Here it is what a myth says about it:
(Anzu) often gazed at Duranki‘s god, father
of the gods,
(1) http://www.pantheon.org/areas/mythology/middle
east/mesopotamian/articles.html
accessed
in
29.3.2013.
(2) Later on, this god will pass in the Greek pantheon
as the god Poseidon.
(3) http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=
t.1.6.2# and http://strangeworldofmystery.blog
spot.ro/009/04/anzu-first-dragon-in-mythology.
html, accessed in 30.3.2013.
(4) http://www.sacred-texts.com/ane/sum/sum08.htm,
accessed in 30.3.2013.
(5) See Hesiod, Theogony, ll. 383-403 and 687-712
at http://www.gutenberg.org/files/348/348-h/348h.htm, accessed in 31.3.2013.
(6) For instance, the abduction of Proserpina/
Persephone by Pluto. Here, though, the god is not
slain, but we do see a myth of fertility.
(7) The Greeks would tell about Hercules or Perseus
slaying the dragon.
(8) From this point of view, it would be interesting to
study the possible connections between the
abduction of Ereshkigal by a dragon that will end
up being slain and the seduction of Eve in the
Garden of Eden by the serpent (Genesis, 3) who,
in the Book of Revelation 12 and 20, is shown as ὁ
δράκων ὁ μέγας (the great dragon) and ὁ οφις ὁ
αρχαιος (the serpent of old) and who, finally, will
be hurled in the lake of fire and brimstone.
(9) http://texts.00.gs/Utukku_Lemnutu,_8-16.htm, acac-cessed on 29.3.2013.
(10) http://www.pantheon.org/articles/z/zu.html, accessed on 30.3.2013.
13
And fixed his purpose, to usurp the Ellilpower.
‗I shall take the god‘s Tablet of Destinies for
myself
And control the orders for all the gods
And shall possess the throne and be master
of rites
I shall direct everyone of the Igigi!‘ (1)
This fact is notable exactly for its lack of
uniqueness: as Joseph Campbell says, the
mythological figure of the Cosmic Tree or the
Tree of Life, with the an eagle at its summit and
a serpent at its root (adding some more elements
constituting together a cultural pattern) appears
in other mythologies, as well: in Egypt, India,
China, as well as in the late periods of the higher
civilizations of Maya-Aztec and Peruvian
(Campbell 1991, 212).
Thus, the winged creature managed to
steal the Tablets of Destiny from the god Enlil,
the crown of sovereignity (2) and the mes, i.e.,
the divine attributes. We can guess that
afterwards it proclaimed itself the master of the
Universe. The god Ninurta accepts to go and
search for the bird, finds its hiding place in the
mountain Sabu and, helped by Ninkasi, the
goddess of wine, despite great hardships, the
god succeeds in defeating the bird and reestablishing the troubled cosmic order (Daniel,
1983, 160).
Much later on, the supernatural bird would
be evoked at the Babylonian New Year feasts
(Akitum). It remains the symbol of the divinities
defeated by the restored gods (Kernbach 1989,
35).
Despite all these, the bird Anzu or
Imdugud would also play a beneficent role,
protecting the homes and the sanctuaries.
Its physical aspect survived till our days in
the shape of the griffins of legends and fairytales.
Another myth, Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the
Nether World, says that the goddess Inanna
planted in her sacred luxuriant garden a halub
tree – maybe a kind of willow – and after it grew
and the goddess wanted to cut it off, she could
not, for…
At its roots, a snake immune to incantations
made itself a nest.
In its branches, the Anzud bird settled its
young.
In its trunk, the phantom maid built herself a
dwelling,
The maid who laughs with a joyful heart (3).
(3).
‘Circumstantial’ Evil Demons
In addition to the ‗divine‘ evil demons
mentioned above, there were some other demons
which I call ‗circumstantial‘: these were spirits
of the dead who became evil because of the
circumstances they died in: some of them were
not buried with the proper liturgy; others were
not buried at all, or were spirits of very evil
people. These could be rather sedentary,
preferring the dark, unoccupied corners, the
ruins, the graveyards, dwelling in any place that
inspires terror or at least fear. They could ‗go to
and fro on earth and walk back and forth on it‘
(4), ‗going through dry places, seeking rest and
finding none‘ (5), wandering fretfully in the
tenebrous deserts (Moscati 1982, 55) and would
vindicate their fate by attacking people, by
terrifying them and pushing them into disastrous
situations (Moscati 1975, 46).
The Manifestations and the Looks of the
Demons
How do the demons manifest themselves
and what do they look like? They would
manifest themselves by the roaring of the wind
and by thunders, by voices of wild, scary beasts
and they would look…terrifying and diverse: the
Sumero-Akkadians would represent the demons
as having human bodies and heads of animals or
a combination of members belonging to
different animals.
‗Here is, for example, the demon that
brings the head-ache, which was much feared‘
writes
Sabatino
Moscati,
the
Italian
archaeologist and linguist:
The head-ache comes from Hell...
It has the head of a demon,
The shape of a whirlwind,
The aspect of the darkened sky,
The face as the deep shade of the woods,
Its hand is a snare, its foot a trap…
1
( ) Stephanie Dalley, Myths from Mesopotamia:
Creation, the Flood, Gilgamesh, and Others, on
http://books.google.ro/books?id=7ERp_y_w1nIC
&pg=PA203&dq=anzu+babylonian&redir_esc=y
#v=onepage&q=anzu%20babylonian&f=false,
accessed on 30.3.2013.
(2) Was the crown actually a halo?
(3) Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the Nether World, ll. 4245, at http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.
cgi?text =t.1.8.1.4# accessed on 29.3.2013.
(4) The Holy Bible: Job, 1:7.
(5) The Holy Bible: the Gospel according to Matthew,
12:43.
14
sinner: ‗Behold, I was brought fourth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me‘ was not
Psalm 51:5, but was the actual Sumerian view
about man: according to Jean Deshayes, in
Sumer it was believed that ‗It never happened
that a mother would bring forth a sinless child‘
(Deshayes 1976, 57) (3).
And, on top of the fact that man was born
a sinner, he would sin, too (4).
The action that opens more directly the
doors to the demons is, of course, the sin. It can
be of most diverse natures: not observing a
religious ritual is placed beside theft and
assassination, and this reflects the unity in faith
that we noticed as being characteristic to
Mesopotamian thought: in their conception,
ritual guilt and moral guilt are the same thing.
(Moscati 1975, 47).
Moreover, in the Sumerian-Akkadian
thought system it was believed that it was not
only the disrespect shown to a religious ritual
that brings about the attack from a demon, but
other ‗minor‘ offences as well: getting in contact
with an impure being that defiles a man by
contaminating him, or any other mistake,
regardless of how small it would be. In this case,
the person gets sick or poor or suffers and this
negative situation is solved only by using magic,
which we intend to treat in a different work.
It boils the members,
Troubles them, wastes the body,
It is an evil that crushes the members as an
earthen vessel…
It grounds the strong one as if he were a
reed,
It brings the mighty one to nothing as if he
were an ox. (Moscati 1975, 47)
We also present another text, Incantation
against the Demonic Lamashtu; the authors
Constantin Daniel and Ion Acsan suggest this
incantation was written by the old Babylonians
and not by the Sumerians we deal with, but the
literature, the faiths and the institutions were
very fluid in those times, so it could have been
written by the Sumerians and has since spilled
over into the Babylonian literature:
The god Anum created her, the divine Ea
made her grow;
Her face is as of a she-dog, Enlil destined
her;
Her hands are dried, extremely long fingers;
Very sharp nails, ugly elbows;
She comes in by stealth, sneaks through the
crack of the door;
Slinking in, she kills the baby;
She turns around his belly seven times…
(Daniel, Acsan 1981, 47) (1).
Life after Death and the Nether World
We reached another interesting point in
our study that will couple of necessity the
discourse about the spirits of the dead and life
after death with the Nether World.
John H. Walton tells us that in Sumerian
this nether world was named IRI.GAL, i.e., ‗The
Great City‘, or Galla, and later Kigallu
(Kernbach 1981, 282) or Inferno. The
Akkadians named it Irkallu or Irkalla, Arallu,
meaning the ‗The land of no return‘ (5).
The same scholar makes an eloquent
commentary about the spirits of the dead, their
trip to the nether world and their dwelling in the
a city of lapis lazuli, surrounded by seven walls
and in the palace Ekalgina:
In a Universe in which all things were
predestined according to the ‗Tablets of
destinies‘ that the supreme god Enlil would
write down at each Akitu or New Year, in which
all things had their place and the world itself had
a certain course (a linearity interwoven with
circularity as we will see in another essay), were
the demons allowed to attack and harm anyone,
anyhow and anyway they wanted to?...
No, in a Universe based on the concept of
cosmic homology, of correspondent worlds, the
demons were allowed to harass just the people
who committed sins! Both in the Dumuzid's
dream (2), and in the Sumerian version of the
Descent of Ishtar to the Nether World (Pritchard,
2011, 77-82), the demons were supernatural
beings acting by order of the gods in order to do
good or evil, as divine agents!
But…the problem was that all people had
sins! Before committing sins, man was still a
(3) The underlining belongs to the author who admits
that ‗the Biblical conception of the original sin has
been nowhere expressed as clearly as in the book
of Genesis.‘
4
( ) Certainly, man was not a sinner because he would
sin, but he would sin because he was a sinner…
(5) See http://whiterosesgarden.com/Nature_of_Evil/
Underworld/UNDR_Deities/UNDR-D_mesopota
mian_region/UNDR_ereshkigal_sumeria.htm
accessed on 29.3.2013.
(1) See also http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/
to pic/328457/Lamashtu accessed in March, 29,
2013.
(2) http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=t.
1.4.3#, accessed in 30.3.2013.
15
In Mesopotamia, the netherworld was
ruled by the gods, particularly by the queen,
Ereshkigal, and her consort, Nergal. The
Anunnaki gods also helped administer the
netherworld. Both politically and architecturally
it was construed as a city (…). Seven walls, each
with its own gate, surrounded the city. Before
passing these, the deceased had to cross the
demon-infested steppe land and the river Hubur
(…). After enduring all of these trials, what one
encountered hardly made it seem worth the
effort.
are wandering, flying at random and feeding on
dirt‘ (Minois 1998, 15).
Let us add some more discomfort to the
general picture:
‗The river of the nether world produces no
water, no water is drunk from it.
{(1 ms. adds:) Why should you sail?}
The fields of the nether world produce no
grain, no flour is eaten from it.
{(1 ms. adds:) Why should you sail?}
The sheep of the nether world produce no
wool, no cloth is woven from it. {(1 ms.
adds:) Why should you sail?} (1).
To the house whose entrants are bereft of
light,
Where dust is their sustenance and clay their
food.
They see no light but dwell in the darkness,
They are clothed like birds in wings for
garments,
And dust has gathered on the door and bolt.
(…).
We bring now into discussion a Sumerian
text that presents dramatically the description we
made above of the netherworld:
They (2) hugged and kissed. They wearied
each other with questions:
‗Did you see the order of the nether world?
If only you would tell me, my friend, if only
you would tell me!‘
‗If I tell you the order of the nether world,
sit down and weep!
I shall sit down and weep!
(…), which your heart rejoiced to touch, is
(…), worms infest it like an old garment (?);
like (…) of (?) a crevice, it is full of dust.‘
‗Alas!‘ he said and sat down in the dust (3).
‗Did you see (…)?‘
‗His food is set apart, his water is set apart,
he eats the food offered (?) to him, he drinks
the water offered (?) to him.‘
(1 ms. adds: ‗Did you see him who was
eaten by a lion?‘
‗He cries bitterly ‗O my hands! O my legs!‘
‗Did you see him who fell down from the
roof?‘
‗They cannot (…) his bones.‘)
‗Did you see the leprous man?‘
‗He twitches like an ox as the worms eat at
him.‘
‗Did you see him who fell in battle?‘
‗I saw him.‘
‗How does he fare?‘
This description and others like it are
based on observations concerning the grave and
the corpse. After death, while the body decayed,
the phantom ‗joined the countless multitude of
other spectres, assembled there since the
beginning of time and forever to lead a gloomy
and mournful existence that was suggested by
the rigid and pensive cadaver, as well as the
fabulous image of a Below of black night, of
heavy silence, and of endless, weighty sleep.‘
(…)
Many texts parallel the existence of the
dead in the netherworld to those that sleep (…),
which suggests that in a semiconscious state
their discomforts are set aside. By other
accounts, however, the aura of despair is
somewhat mitigated as the afterlife is
characterized as in some ways parallel to life on
earth. For example, the sun is said to pass
through the netherworld after it sets in the land
of the living as it moves back to the east to rise
again the next morning. This suggests that the
darkness of the netherworld is therefore
dispelled, if only briefly, in regular intervals
(…). The barely tolerably conditions could be
mitigated by continued attention from those who
remained in the land of the living. This premise
was the foundation of the cult of the dead…
(Walton 2006, 318-319).
To say this briefly, we will use the words
of Georges Minois: ‗The darkness and the dust
are the two characteristic elements of the
Mesopotamian hell, in which the winged souls
(1) Ninjiczida's journey to the nether world, ll. 29-31,
at
http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?
text =t.1. 7.3&charenc=j# accessed on March, 30,
2013.
(2) I. e., Gilgamesh who invoked the spirit of Enkidu
from the Netherworld.
(3) Gilgamesh, Enkidu and the nether world, ll. 243253, at http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/section1/tr1814.
htm, accessed in March, 30, 2013.
16
‗His father and mother are not there to hold
his head, and his wife weeps.‘
‗Did you see the spirit of him who has no
funerary offerings?‘
‗I saw him.‘
‗How does he fare?‘
‗He eats the scraps and the crumbs ......
tossed out in the street.‘ (1).
Needless to say, the images are
susceptible of inducing depression. What does
relieve the despair somewhat is the fact that, as
Tammi J. Schneider notices, the goddess
Ereshkigal, the queen of the vast region, also
weeps for those who stepped on this domain
(Schneider 2011, 49), and that families are kept
together.
Boia 2000
Campbell
1991
Dalley 2000
Conclusions
Before we bid farewell to the
Mesopotamian nether world, we deem it
appropriate to record few conclusions.
The author of this essay presented
glimpses of the Mesopotamian nether world as
the Sumerian-Akkadians used to fantasize about
it: a gloomy, sorrowful domain, with horrible,
desperate apparitions. From our point of view, it
is clear that the Sumerian-Akkadian myths
would sometimes contradict themselves and
some other times they would be hilarious but
still the ancients did believe them. As Georges
Minois said, a nether world would reflect the
collective fears of the society that imagined it.
The hell we examined, though, is different from
other famous hells – for instance, from the
Christian hell – because the former will
eventually receive all the people, not only those
who have been sentenced to it because of evils
committed in their earthly life.
Yet, since equilibrium and objectivity are
virtues to be cultivated, a future essay will
present the Sumerian-Akkadian Paradise. Thus,
we will pass from darkness to light and we will
ascend from Hell to Heavens.
Constantin
1983
Constantin,
Acsan 1981
Deshayes
1976
Holland
2010
Minois 1998
Moscati
1982
References
Books:
Albright
1967
Banu 1967
Moscati
1975
Albright, William Foxwell,
From the Stone Age to
Christianity – Monotheism and
the
Historical
Process,
Baltimore, The Johns Hopkins
Press, third printing, 1967.
Banu, Ion, Sensuri universale şi
diferenţe specifice în filozofia
Schneider
2011
Walton 2006
(1) Ibidem, ll. 286-301.
17
Orientului antic [Universal
meanings
and
specific
differences in the philosophy of
the ancient Orient], Bucureşti,
Scientific Publishing House,
1967.
Boia, Lucian, Pentru o istorie a
imaginarului [For a history of
the
imaginary],
Bucureşti,
Humanitas, 2000.
Campbell, Joseph, The Masks of
God – Primitive Mythology.
New York, Penguin Books,
1991.
Dalley, Stephanie, Myths from
Mesopotamia: Creation, the
Flood, Gilgamesh, and Others,
Oxford University Press, 2000.
Daniel, Constantin, Civilizaţia
sumeriană [Sumerian civilization],
Bucureşti,
SportTurism, 1983.
Daniel, Constantin şi Acsan,
Ion, Tăbliţele din argilă –
Scrieri din Orientul antic [Clay
tablets – Writings of Ancient
Orient], Bucureşti, Minerva,
1981.
Deshayes, Jean, Civilizaţiile
vechiului
Orient
[Ancient
civilizations of the Orient],
Bucureşti, Meridiane, 1976.
Holland, Glenn S., Gods in the
Desert: Religions of the Ancient
Near East, Lanham: Rowan and
Littlefield Publishers, Maryland,
2010.
Minois,
Georges,
Istoria
infernurilor [A history of hells],
Bucureşti, Humanitas, 1998.
Moscati, Sabatino, Vechi imperii
ale Orientului [Old empires of
the
Orient],
Bucureşti,
Meridiane, 1982.
Moscati, Sabatino, Vechile
civilizaţii
semite
[Ancient
Semitic civilizations], Bucureşti,
Meridiane, 1975.
Schneider, J. Tammi, An Introduction to Ancient Mesopotamian Religion, Michigan,
Grand Rapids, William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company,
2011.
Walton, John H., Ancient Near
Eastern Thought and the Old
Tes-tament: Introducing the
Conceptual World of the
Hebrew Bible. Grand Rapids,
Baker Academic, Michigan,
2006.
–
Orfeu,
Poeme
*** Acsan Hesiod
[Poems], ed. Ion Acsan,
1987
Bucureşti, Minerva, 1987.
http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=
t.1.7.3&charenc=j#
t.1.8.1.4#
t.4.19.1#
t.4.19.2#
http://strangeworldofmystery.blogspot.ro/2009/0
4/anzu-first-dragon-in-mythology.html
http://texts.00.gs/Utukku_Lemnutu,_1-7.htm
http://texts.00.gs/Utukku_Lemnutu,_8-16.htm
http://whiterosesgarden.com/Nature_of_Evil/Un
derworld/UNDR_Deities/UNDR-D_
mesopotamian_region/UNDR_ereshkigal_s
umeria.htm
http://www.babylon-rising.com/ereshkigal.html
http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/37
6937/Mesopotamian-religion/68267/
Myths#ref559313
http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/41
5722/Ningishzida
http://www.crystalinks.com/sumergods.html
http://www.demonicpedia.com/demons/
ereshkigal/
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galereshkigal2000.htm
http://www.goddessaday.com/mesopotamian/ere
shkigal
http://www.jstor.org/stable/497115
http://www.pantheon.org/areas/mythology/
middle_east/mesopotamian/articles.html
http://www.pantheon.org/articles/z/zu.html
http://www.sacredtexts.com/ane/sum/sum07.htm
http://www.sacredtexts.com/ane/sum/sum08.htm
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Chevalier,
Gheerbrant
1995
Chevalier, Jean, Gheerbrant,
Alain, Dicţionar de simboluri.
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Kernbach, Victor, Dicţionar de
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18
Fig.1. Babylonian representation of the universe
Source: Banu 1967, 65.
19
Slavic and Greek-Roman Mythology, Comparative Mythology
Mihai DRAGNEA
PhD Student, University of Bucharest
E-mail: terra_mater_2007@yahoo.com
Abstract. Mythology (μυθολογία), as a field of scientific research, is a set of stories, mythos in
Greek meaning ‗story‘ or ‗legend‘ and logos ‗word‘. Usually, the myths are works of literature. The term
mythology may include all the myths of religion or culture. Throughout history, these stories have
circulated as works of literature, folk tales (ballads, odes, songs, songs of bravery) or based on historical
sources written at different ruler's courts or monasteries.
In this paper I will present a number of similarities between Greek and Roman deities and the slavic
ones, basing my research as much as possible on the information provided by an etymological analisys, a
description of the deity as well as rituals, offerings, sacrifices and celebrations dedicated to the deities. As
a main source for Slavic deities, I used a compilation of medieval and religious texts written in the Kievan
Rus' by monk Nestor, called the Russian Primary Chronicle or Nestor's Chronicle. This script presents
Russian history and Kievan Rus between 850-1110 years, written in Kiev during Iziaslav Sviatopolk the
second's (Grand Prince of Kiev 1093-1113) reign. The Chronicle is German-Scandinavian inspired, since
the Prince Sviatopolk's (the principality's ruler) policy was pro-Scandinavian. Also, I could list following
volumes: Dictionary of Slavic mythology by Ilie Danilov and Slavic mythology by Sorin Paliga. In
addition to these works, information about Slavic mythology can be found in the following books:
History of religious beliefs and ideas by Mircea Eliade, Slavic mythology by Anca Ionescu Irina,
Dictionary of General Mythology by Victor Kernbach and Teodor Eugen Sorin, Linguistics and
Archaeology of the early Slavs and Another view of the Lower Danube by Sorin Paliga. The remaining
materials are presented in the bibliography. In Greek mythology, Homer and Hesiod are the main
narrative sources. As reference materials I will use the following volume: Sources for Greek Religion de
David G. Rice & John E. Stambaugh and the book Dictionary of Roman-Greek mythology: gods, heroes,
myths by Zoe Petre, Alexandra Liţu, Cătălin Pavel Cristian Olariu, Florica Mihuţ-Bohîlţea, Alexandra
Ţârlea.
Key words: Slavic mythology, Greek mythology, Roman mythology, Paganism, Kievan Rus'
The term refers specifically to the god Perun.
About Zeus we discover that he is given the
royal honor as ‗the one who divides wealth
amog people‘ and ‗the one who watches over
mortals‘ (2). When they pray to God, the Slavs
invoke him by the name of Bog which is not the
same as the Judeo-Christian Jehovah. Under this
term of Bog, the old Slavs made reference to the
god Perun. The term of Zeus, in terms of
etymology, defines and ranks his generation on
the top level of the Greek pantheon. Zeus is
accompanied by the appellative Dyaus pitarZeus pater from Sanskrit translated to ‗heavenly
Father‘ (3). The same situation is met in Roman
mythology, where Jupiter has the appelative
Iovis pater-Deus pater, symbolizing absolute
power over men and gods as ‗heavenly Father‘
(4). Like Zeus, Jupiter and Perun, he is described
Comparative mythology
At the head of the Slavic pantheon, is
‗Supreme God‘, ‗The higher‘ or God (Бог, Bog),
the generic name for the supreme deity for slavs
‗the rich‘, ‗the powerful‘. It should be noted
however, that this name is just an epithet that
could be attributed to several gods, depending
on the hierarchy (eg Greater Perun, Svarog the
Greater). This term has Indo-European origins
being also found in the ancient Iranians
language, as the bay, a word which means ‗god‘
and represents a ‗god‘ who is offering, gracious,
generous and strong. Procopius and Helmold
tells us that the Slavs belief system is
hierarchical, subordinating other gods to the
Supreme God. At Helmold the function of
‗supreme god‘ of the Baltic slavs tribes is
occupied by Svantevit and for the Eastern Slavs,
Perun. Linguists believe that the word ‗bogat‘ is
derived from this ancient Indo-European root (1).
(2) Victor Kernbach 1996, 68.
(3) Idem 1983, 776.
(4) Idem 1996, 317.
(1) Sorin Paliga 2008, 29.
20
as the god of thunder (1), lightning and eternal
fire (Ignis aeternus), showing their absolute
power over men and gods alike. Perun was
depicted as a man with an imposing stature, with
hair as silver (the silver head) and a golden
mustache (2), also berring on himself a hammer,
a war axe and a bow, which drew arrows made
of lightning. The same vengeful representation
characterizes Zeus (3). In Titanomahia, Zeus
descends from Olympus and begins to throw
lightning accompanied by thunder against the
Titans and Giants (4). He has the nickname
Keraunos (named after the arcadian word for
lightning) (5). In Hesiod‘s Theogony, Zeus is
introduced as handsome, strong and sturdy (6),
just like Perun. Jupiter has the nickname Fulgur
which is known as ‗lightning master‘ or
Summanus ‗nocturnal lightning source‘.7 Perun
is known as ‗the one who brings the rain‘ or ‗the
one who brings the clouds‘, essential for natural
fertilization (8). The same attribute is given to
Zeus, ‗the bringer of clouds‘ in Hesiod‘s
Theogony (9). In Roman mythology, Jupiter‘s
nickname is Elicius which means ‗rain producer‘
or Vernus ‗the spring rain god‘ (10). Any
covenant of the people or any form of oath
which was done in the name of Perun (11), just as
in Greek mythology, where Homer tells us in the
Iliad that the vows were made in the name of
Zeus (12).
Human sacrifices are in both parties. In
Nestor's Chronicle we learn that Vladimir,
Prince of the Kievan Rus, after raising more
pagan idols in Kiev offered humans as sacrifice
to the gods. Nestor tells us that the Russians
even sacrificed their own children (13).
Testimonies about human sacrifices among the
ancient Greeks are in the works of Xenophon
Anabasis (vol.VI) that, according to prophetic
oracle of Delfii, two people were slaughtered on
the altar in honor of Zeus (14). Thursday was
considered dedicated to Perun. And, there's
Perun's day celebrated on 21 June (15). In the
case of Jupiter, under the appellation of
Summanus, has a ceremony dedicated on June
20 in his temple (16). After Perun's victory
against the enemy (probably Veles) the waters
of the world are set free and rain starts pouring.
In Greek mythology, Zeus has the Eleutherios
epithet, which would translate as ‗liberator‘ (17)
that took the sky to himself, giving the waters to
his brother Poseidon and the earth to Hades.
Among the Slavonic chronicles we find that the
oak is Perun's holy tree, which is similar to the
Greek mythology, where the choice location of a
temple to Zeus was conditioned by an oak,
which is said to have the nest of a black dove
(18).
That the oak was considered the sacred
tree of Zeus we find out from Athenaeus in the
work Deipnosophists (book XI), where a certain
Lykaios, priest of Zeus, is dedicating a sacrifice
to the god, using an oak (19). Procopius of
Caesarea tells us that the Russians, reaching
Constantinople, on the island of St. George,
have worshiped an enormous oak to which they
offered sacrifices. In Ukraine, in Zaporoje
(Запоріжжя), an oak tree is photographed being
6 m wide and a few centuries old. Researchers
support the idea that it is a sacred oak. An old
tradition says that once with the first spring
thunder one must lean back on an oak to prevent
back pains. The ox is Perun's sacred animal,
being used to plough fields by the ancient Slavs.
In the late sixth century Byzantine
Procopius of Caesarea in his work, The fights
with the Goths, wrote about the Slavs, wrote (20):
‘They believe that only the god himself, the
creator of lightning, is lord of all and they bring
oxen to sacrifice ...’.
In Greek mythology, Bouphónia ‗the
killing of the bull‘ is a ritual of supreme
sacrifice. During the annual celebration
Bouphónia an ox was sacrificed, which was then
stuffed and yoked to a plow. The priest fled, and
the knife was thrown into the sea (21). This ritual
took place on the Acropolis, at the shrine of
Zeus Polieus (22). It is known that cattle were the
equivalent of wealth in archaic societes such as
(1) Tamara Kondratieva 2000, 34.
(2) Cronica lui Nestor 1935, 80.
(3) Roger. D. Woodard, 89.
(5) Idem 1983, 777.
(6) N. A. Kun 1964, 10.
(8) Ilie Danilov 2007, 185-186.
(10) Ibidem 317.
(12) David G. Rice, John E. Stambaugh 2009, 85.
(15) Gavrilov, D.A., Nagovitsyn A.E., 2002, 94.
(16) Zoe Petre, Alexandra Liţu, Cătălin Pavel (eds.)
2001, 248.
(17) N. A. Kun 1964, 13.
(18) Zoe Petre et alii (eds.) 2001, 375.
(20) Eugenio R. Luján 105-106
(22) Ibidem 374.
21
the Indo-Europeans. It is said that the man who
died struck by lightning, was considered
fortunate, being called to heaven by the god
Perun, who would forgive all of his mortal sins.
This can also be found in Greek mythology,
where according to a divine punishment, Semele
is struck with lightning by Zeus (1). After the
Christianization of the Slavs, the cult of Perun
was associated with that of the Holy Prophet
Ilie, the one who ‗Rode madly with a chariot of
fire through the sky‘ and punished his enemies
with lightning (2). In Roman mythology, Jupiter
Jupiter descends from the Capitol in a chariot
drawn by four horses (3).
The next god as importance in Slavic
mythology is Veles (Велес, Weles in Polish),
who was also called Volos (Волосъ) (4). To
better understand the domestic character of God
we must remove the root skot which means
‗domestic animals‘ or ‗cattle‘, especially in its
negative meaning. With the migration of IndoEuropeans, the word ‗skoy‘ was synonymous
with wealth and abundance, being very well
represented in Rig Veda. By the Middle Ages,
the Russians have the word ‗skot‘ meaning
‗home‘ but also ‗wealth‘, ‗fortune‘ or ‗money‘.
For the Slavs, he was the god who brings wealth
and prosperity (5), considered ‗the god of herds‘
(6) and animals (7). Veles is also the god
protector of farmers, people were worshiping
him to gain an increase in farm yields (8). In
Greek mythology, Hermes the Arcadian appears
as a pastoral god, protector of flocks and herds
(9). Also Hermes brings luck to merchants
dividing money and wealth among people.10
Mercury is also the patron of merchants in
Roman mythology (11).
A.N.Veselovskii believes that the name of
Veles is related to the ancient Slavic cult of the
dead, that of the deceased soul. He does an
etimological parallel between Slavs and Baltic
tribes by the Lithuanian term ‗welis: which
means ‗dead‘ or ‗welci‘ which would mean
‗dead souls‘. A Lithuanian version of Veles is
Velinas, which is found in the Baltic culture as
the creator of reptiles, black birds (raven, crow)
and wolves, just as Odin, where he is surrounded
by fighters‘ souls‘ einherjar. The link between
birds and wolves is primordial, symbolizing
death and liaising between the two worlds: the
earthly and after death. The wolf symbolizes the
struggle and courage and the raven symbolizes
wisdom. A celebration of the dead in Lithuanian
mythology is called Velia. Velos word (plural
Velia ‗feast of the dead‘) derives from the Vails
‗dead souls‘. The divinity named Veliona is
invited to take part in the ‗dead feast‘ (alms)
from an old Lithuanian ritual. If we were to
admit that Veliona appears as a goddess in
Lithuanian mythology, closely linked to that of
the Slavs, this theory could be correct (12).
Veles appears to us as a god of water, with a
htonic character dealing with scams, being the
bitter enemy of Perun (see Loki and Thor) but
also as a wizard. Some Russian historians
studying ancient Slavic mythology believe that
the universal role of Veles is the ‗bond‘ between
the world of the living and the world of the
dead, with a role of guiding souls (13). In ancient
Greek world, Hermes was the messenger of the
gods and his role was to guide the souls of men
who had to reach the underground kingdom of
Hades (14). Mercury of the Romans was also a
guide for the souls of those who arrived in the
underground world of Pluto (15).
Before Vladimir cristianized the Russian
people, the seven statues of the primordial gods
of Eastern Slavs mythology, were found in large
urban centers of the Kievan Rus‘, especially in
Kiev. Interestingly, the statue of Veles is one of
the seven who are not on the sacred hill of Kiev,
but somewhere in the plain, close to the market.
From here was concluded that Veles was also a
patron of trade, protector of merchants (16). The
Greek‘s, Hermes also appears as a protector of
trade and traders worldwide (17). In Roman
mythology, Mercury is presented as the god of
commerce, patron of merchants and thieves.
Veles was considered the ‗god of poetry‘ as an
attribute for the value of its intellectual
explanation. Hermes was considered the ‗patron
of writing‘ and had a holiday dedicated to him:
Hermania, giving him an intellectual tone (18).
Hors God (Chors, in the Iranian Scythians
Khursun language) represents the Sun (19). His
(1) Ibidem 138.
(2) B.A. Rybakov 1981, 272
(3) Sir James George Frazer 1922, 152.
(4) Sorin Paliga, Eugen S.Teodor 2009, 219.
(5) Ilie Danilov 2007, 251.
(7) Ibidem 77.
(10) N. A. Kun 1964, 45.
(12) Algirdas Julien Greimas 1997, 57-58
(13) Ilie Danilov 2007, 252.
(17) Ibidem 205.
(18) Ibidem 265.
(19) Ilie Danilov 2007, 106.
22
name is recorded in the Chronicle of Nestor.
Meaning of the word is ‗moving‘, ‗respect‘,
‗ongoing‘. Iranian xorsed means ‗sun‘, hence the
name of a Persian dynast Khores (1) which has
the same meaning ‗sun‘ (2). Hors appears as a
young beautiful, with golden hair, curled (3).
The name can mean god and ‗shine‘ in Persian
xurset ‗sun shining‘ or ‗grandeur‘ and can be a
divine model to follow for any pre-Christian
Slavic world dynast. Hors was the god of
sunlight, the yellow solar disk.4 Available
sunlight and the name of god are played by
many words horoshii (good), pohoroshet '(to
improve), prihoroshivatisya (to arrange, to
adorn, dress style), and horovod (dance), horom
(in chorus). In many nations, cuvânul horo
means ‗gold record‘, ‗circle‘ or ritual dances,
urano-solar nature. Hence the name in a circle
dance called the hora. Even the town of Korsun
wear Horsun last name in honor of the god of
sunlight. It is possible that region Kherson
Herson, (Херсон) in Ukraine today, bear the
name of god.
In Greek mythology, Apollo is the
representative of generation seconds Olympians
appears as a god of sunlight, which is assigned
the symbol of the purity of sunlight, Phoibos.5
By the description of Apollo ‗the golden haired‘
we understand the divine emanation or sunlight.6
sunlight.6 The protective character of the god
confirms that Apolon is a deity positive to help
people in need. After killing the dragon Python,
Apollo buried the corpse of the monster in the
place that would be built later famous oracle at
Delphi, where people were prophesied the
wishes of Zeus, father of Apollo (7). It is said
that the god Hors is defeated by the Black God,
but he revives, being worshiped by the ancient
Slavs as a god of healing, survival, triumph
against diseases and weakness, considered a
‗master herbs.‘ So the god is presented as a wise
medicine man. Of Apollon we learn that one of
her states is Apollo Medicus (8), the physician.
Dažbog (Dazhbog, Dazbog, Dazhdbog,
Dabog, Dajbog, Dadzbóg, Dadźbóg) is another
important god, worshiped by the time of Prince
Vladimir ruler of the Kievan Rus (9). Dažbog
appears under the name of Radegast in the case
of the Baltic Slavs. He is a solar god (10)
representing fertility, male power (11) and is
considered the ancestor of the slavs. This is
confirmed by the apostle of Pskov, in the XIV
century. As a common element, the Greek
Helios, we have solar deity status (12). Helios
appears as a solar, pre-Olympian god, having an
image of a young beautiful and powerful symbol
of fertility (13). The slavs believed Dažbog ran
across the sky in a war chariot drawn by four
beautiful white horses with golden wings.
Sunlight came from the solar fire shield, which
Dažbog always bears with him. At night,
Dažbog wanders the sky from East to West
illuminating the earth with his divine glory.
Twice a day, morning and evening, he crosses
the great ocean with a boat pulled by some
geese, wild ducks and swans. Therefore the old
Slavs gave a special power to charms in the
shape of a duck with horse head. They believed
that Dažbog (Sun) will help them wherever they
are in the Old World or the Dark World. In the
times of pagan Russia, killing a Swan was
forbidden on the grounds that it is a sacred
animal. In Greek mythology, Helios crosses the
sky daily in a chariot drawn by four horses:
Pyroeis, Eous, Aethon and Phlegon (14). Of
Apollon, we learn that he traveled to Delphi and
Hyperborea in his chariot drawn by snow white
swans (15). Vladimir Toporov believes that the
Khors (Khorsun) epithet is an Iranian version
and that Dažbog is the Slavic or Slavicized
version. Dažbog can be compared by some
people with Apollo, representing the power of
the fruits and solar heat. Russian historian Boris
Ryabakov believes that Hors is the god of the
sun and that Dažbog would only be the solar
power
of
Hors.
Stribog (Stribozh, Strzybog, Стрибог) is
the god and also the spirit of wind, storm (16),
air, ice, cold and the sky, having a divine,
Uranian character. After the old Slavic tradition,
he would be the ‗father of the eight wind
directions.‘ He is linking the Sky (Realm of the
Gods) and the Earth (Land of Men) and his own
destiny defines the link between the two worlds.
Some historians believe that the origin of
Stribog's name is related to the old Slavic word
‗strga‘ meaning to scatter ‗or‘ stretch ‗. The
(1) The old Persian name of the latin version Cyrus
was Kūruš-Khores.
(2) B.A. Rybakov 1981, 280-281.
(5) Ibidem 61
(6) N. A. Kun 1964, 27.
(7) Ibidem 29.
(9) Anca Irina Ionescu 2000, 92.
(14) Bernard Evslin, Ned Hoopes 1966, 71.
(15) N. A. Kun 1964, 31.
23
Explanatory Dictionary of the Live Great
Russian Language by Vladimir Dal, we find the
words Stryj (strâi) – ‗paternal uncle‘ and Stryt
'(Strât') where stryvat means ‗to stretch‘, ‗to
destroy‘. Moreover, there are other words that
have the same root with the word stribog stremlitelnyi (fast), bystryi (fast), strela (arrow),
prostranstvo (transparency) and strah (fear). The
word can also be explained by Strîi-Bog or
Starîi-Bog (God of the Old); also, the old
Russian radical Strega meaning ‗older‘ (1). After
After the old Slavic legend, the wind has several
grandchildren and sons, represented in the form
of lower winds (2):
— Posvist (higher wind, the storm god),
— Podoga (hot wind, light, god good season),
— Podaga (hot wind, alluring, living in deserts,
in the South)
— West-wind (a bit dry at times ‗angry‘, but it's
mostly gentle)
— Siverko (North wind, bears from the Arctic
cold, very rough),
— East-wind (is of a sudden, mysterious and
evil).
We establish a connection between these
cardinal winds and their corresponding deities of
Greek mythology. So titanida Eos (Aurora in
Roman mythology), wife of the titan Astraios
(father winds) gave birth to the four winds
(Aνεμοι-Anemoi):
— Notos (south wind, Auster at Romans)
— Zephir (the West Wind, the Roman Favonius)
— Boreas (north wind, the Romans Aquilo)
— Eurus (east wind, the Romans Vulturnus).
Mokoš (Мокошь, Mokoş) is the only
female deity of primordial gods of the seven
series of the eastern Slavs. In the Slavic
pantheon in the time of Vladimir she appears as
the only goddess (3). The goddess is worshiped
for good harvests, and is considered the
protector of the household, bringing harmony
between family members, through love, wisdom
and temperance establishing a balance essential
for a happy home. In the Greek mythology, Hera
(Juno to the Romans), under the appellation
Telea, fulfills marriage and virginity prior to
legitimate marriage, wearing at Hermione the
epiclesa Parthenos (Virgin) (4). In Roman
mythology, Jupiter's wife is Juno also named
Queen of Heaven (Regina Ivno), protector of
women, patron goddess of wives and mothers
(Juno Matrona) (5).
Mokoş is ‗the goddess who spins wool‘
often represented with anthropomorphic
deformities (large head and long arms) (6). She
protects, respects and legislates women's work,
especially handmade objects. In Olympia, where
the temple of Zeus and Hera is situated, once
every four years, with the large opening
celebrations dedicated to Zeus, Hera celebrates
women in response to the great celebration of
the Olympics which were exclusively male. She
receives a cow as a sacrifice and her statue is
dressed with a new peplos woven by 14 married
women (7). Mokoş is ‗the one who toil fate‘ or
‗the one who knotted fate‘, meaning she is a
goddess of fate and destiny (8). Among the
Greeks, Hera also has the power to bind and
unbind marriages (9).
Svarog (Сварог, Polish Swaróg) is the
god of fire (10), a solar deity, which is
represented by heavenly light (Sun Eternal) (11),
in a cyclic form, the symbol of the Slavonic
swastika, known as Коловрат (Kolovrat). It
seems that the God had a specific fireworshiping cult, representing a spirit as eternal
fire (12). Fire symbolizes eternal flame immortal
spirit with a purifying. Svarog represents the
hearth fire people (13) who help prepare food,
vital for human existence and material-fire in the
furnace where weapons and tools are
manufactured (14). This is similar to the Greek
Hephaestus or Vulcan of the Romans. In Greek
mythology, Hephaestus is called ‗blacksmith‘,
the absolute symbol of metallurgy (15). In his
honor, the island of Lemnos, is dedicated to this
god, once a year all fires were extinguished
without being lit during sacrifices. Then, a ship
brought ‗the new fire‘ from the island Pelosi to
ignite the fire in the hearths and furnaces (16). In
Roman mythology, Vulcan is also called
Mulciber (blacksmith of the gods) (17).
Another female deity in Slavic mythology
is Lada. She appears as a goddess of love and
(5) Florence Noiville 2006, 9.
(13) Ilie Danilov 2007, 227.
(16) Ibidem 223.
(2) Ibidem 225.
(4) Zoe Petre et alii 2001, 195.
24
summer, harvests, protector of lovers, couples,
marriage and families, women and children. The
goddess is depicted as a woman in the prime of
life, full-bodied, mature symbol of motherhood.
As etymology, LAD in Czech means ‗harmony‘,
‗understanding‘,
‗order‘.
Ladny
means
‗graceful‘, ‗cute‘ LAD in Polish means ‗order‘,
‗Polity‘ ladny ‗beautiful‘, ‗cute‘ (1). In Russian
folk songs, pre-Christian Slavic mythology
lyrical relics, the name of the goddess of love,
marriage and marital harmony, became a
common noun to mean ‗close‘, ‗love‘ is used as
a diminutive epithet for jena ‗wife‘, ‗woman‘.
Lado its male counterpart means ‗devoted
spouse‘ (2). The Greek Aphrodite appears as a
goddess of beauty, love, attraction and sexuality
(3). As Pandemos, Aphrodite is the guarantee of
public tasks and protector of peaceful relations
between citizens (4). She planted love in the
hearts of all gods and men. She is represented as
a tall woman, slender, with delicate features,
with a wave of golden hair, placed as crown on
her glamorous head. The goddess is the
embodiment of divine beauty and eternal youth
(5). Aphrodite gives happiness to those who
serve with faith. A certain Pygmalion brings to
the goddess an offering of a white heifer with
horns covered with gold, asking Aphrodite to
give him a beautiful wife as the statue made by
him (6). Among the Romans, Venus is the
goddess of vegetation and fertility, with the
same attributes as Aphrodite (7).
Iarilo (Ярило, Јарило; Jaryło Polish,
Croatian: Jura, Juraj, Serbian: Đorđe ‗George‘)
is the god of light and spring storms, which
embodies the fertilizing power of Perun. It is the
symbol of spring heat, being represented as a
young impetuous like the storms of spring,
dominated by his erotic passions. He roams the
sky riding a white horse, wearing a white robe.
The head has a braided wreath of spring flowers.
Etymologically, the radical iar in the Slavic
languages, means ‗male power‘, ‗virility‘ (8).
His counterpart in Greek mythology, Eros
(Cupido in Roman mythology), personifies a
desire born of chaos, symbolizing maddening
love and carnal pleasures (9). The son of
Aphrodite, he is the messenger of his mother.
Eros appears as a child frisky, cheerful, cunning
but cruel sometimes. He flies on his golden
wings, sending arrows bearing joy and
happiness (10).
Conslusions
I would like to say that in this paper I tried
to show as much as the documents I have
allowed me to present common elements
between the pre-Christian Slavic pantheon‘s
main deities and their correspondents in the
Greco-Roman mythology. You can see the
common elements in the three Indo-European
belief systems: Slavic, Greek and Roman. On a
religious level, we can say that Slavs had a
similar mythological Greek or Roman
polytheism because of the lack of information
the only accurate sources are themedieval
chronicles, which in turn contain data either
reduced or altered because the information is
influenced by the Christian propaganda used by
the authors. One should not confuse some
mythological or religious system, with some
popular traditions, even if these traditions can be
a set of popular beliefs. Restoring a religious
pantheon based on traditions and popular
sources may have a different result from the
same pantheon reconstruction based on
historical sources, whether using chronicles or
any other literary documents. But we admit that
on the popular level, some pagan religious
traditions and customs have survived. At
present, we can not build a Slavic pantheon in
Greek and Roman pantheon model, but rather a
‗barbaric‘ one, similar to the Scandinavian,
Baltic and Celtic. This is possible due to the
common Indo-European elements that define a
unique character and unity of religions found
among the Aryan peoples. Due to a relatively
lower level of development of the Nordic
Europeans, the Greeks and Romans of the south,
and because of their cruel Christianization
campaigns, data on the ‗mythology‘ of the
Slavic, Scandinavian, Baltic and Celtic, peoples
is reduced. It is important to note that all Nordic
peoples (Germanic, Celtic, Baltic, Prussian,
Slavs and Thracians) had a developmental focus
of popular culture in a, rural, rustic ‗barbaric‘
style to developing what the Greco-Roman
produced on a literary, architectural, social
development axis where the engine was
represented by the cities. This can be
demonstrated by several theories. One of them is
the fact that the Slavs, like the Nordic peoples,
drank mead an alcoholic drink made from
(2) Ibidem 138.
(4) Ibidem 36.
(5) N. A. Kun 1964, 51.
(6) Ibidem,54.
(10) N. A. Kun 1964, 59.
25
fermented honey and called it medovukha.
Another theory is the belief in a supreme god of
the Slavs who owns sky and controls lightning
(Perun). This is present in almost all IndoEuropean beliefs. The Germans have it on Thor
and Donar, the Celts and Gauls have Taranis or
Ambisagrus, Loucetios, in the Balkan the
Thracians have Zibelthiurdos, in Dacia –
Gebeleizis, in Albania – Perëndi, Perkūnas in
the case of the Lithuanians, Latvians have
Pērkons, Prussians have Perkūns, the Hittites
have Teshub, the Romans have Jupiter and the
Greeks have Zeus. In the Greco-Roman, IndoEuropean character of Zeus/Jupiter was outlined
in an archaic time, long before the birth of
‗civilization‘ being heavily influenced by the
‗barbarian‘ neighbors.
Another key feature of the Indo-European
religion is the policefalia of some deities. The
existence of policefalia in Slavic religion, where
they have the Triglav and Svantevit confirms
that the Slavs had an Indo-European religion.
Like the god Svantevit, whose idol was
represented with four heads suggesting the four
cardinal points and could read the future, so was
the god Janus in the Roman mythology, and
Typhon and Hecate in the Greek one, Brahma in
Hinduism, or the giant Þrúðgelmir in the
Scandinavian mythology. Human sacrifice is
another common feature of Indo-Europeans. The
Slavs, along with the deceased, sacrificed his
wife if he was a peasant or a slave if he was a
noble.
The ancient Slavic language was founded
on a Balto-Slavic background with elements
from western Iran, Thracian-Dacian and
German. For example, the South Slavs use
archaic Romanian words of Thracian origin.
This patern of linguistical interferences is
applied even in the religious plan. The
hypothesis of work mentioned can help to
distinguish the local Slavic deities from the
foreign ones. As an explanation, we can say that
the name and significance of local deities of the
Slavs can be ‗translated‘ through the usual terms
of the modern Slavic languages.
Books:
Burket 1985
Dumezil 1997
Dumezil, Georges, Zeii
suverani
ai
indoeuropenilor
[Sovereign
Indo-Europeans
Gods],
Bucureşti, Univers, 1997.
Eliade 1999
Eliade,
Mircea,
Istoria
credinţelor
şi
ideilor
religioase [A History of
Beliefs
Ideas],
Evslin,
Hoopes 1966
Gavrilov,
Nagovitsyn
2002
Greimas
1997
Guerber
2008
Ionescu 1978
Ionescu 2000
Kondratieva
2000
Kun 1964
Noiville 2006
References
Nestor
1935
Procopius
1963
Burket,
Walter,
Greek
Religion, Harvard University
Press, 1985.
Paliga 2008
*** Cronica lui Nestor)
[Nestor’s Chronicle], Bucureşti,
Bucovina Typography, 1935.
Procopius
din
Cesareea,
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27
Examining the Status of the Noble Women in 16th-17th Century
Banat
Ligia BOLDEA
PhD, Researcher, Muzeul Banatului Montan, Reşiţa
E-mail: ligiaboldea@yahoo.com
Abstract. Examining the image of the noble woman in Banat in the Middle Ages may appear from
the very beginning as a failed attempt, as the scarcity of the references and the dominantly patrimonial
subject that excluded the woman‘s presence from the beginning, all confine such a historiographic
approach to serious limits. We aim however to show to what extend we could render the woman‘s status
in medieval Banat, starting from a concrete example of a noble family history in the 16th-17th c. town of
Caransebeş, the family of Simon of Caransebeş. The medieval female imagery in Banat in the period we
aim to introspect is grounded exclusively on the documents of the time, the only ones that can bring to
light a possible unsubstantial subject in the absence of more, different, reference sources. We focused the
research on the 16th-17th centuries for a very good reason: after a long ‗silence‘ in the office documents of
the previous centuries, the presence of the noble woman in Banat begins to appear in documents of a
probative value, if not in a dramatic manner at least in one enough to sketch some feminine portraits that
can suggest some evolutionary characters we might consider to be extrapolated to the level of the social
universe of that time. It is a vivid image of a component of the Romanian society in Banat in the late
Middle Ages period, a case study that can offer more facets to be analyzed by the historiographic
research; these may lead to define an interesting typology that has to be integrated to the social elites of
Banat picture.
Key words: Medieval Banat, noble elites, ownership structures, woman‘s image, inheritance rights
thus constituted to regulate a good allotment of
women in the men‘s milieu, to discipline the
male contest around them in order to make
official and socialise the procreation. By
designating the fathers, those rituals added a
new filiation to the maternal one – the only
certain one. Those regalements gave the
women‘s children, to the same extent, the statute
of inheritors and inheritress with ancestors,
name and several rights (Duby 1997, 20).
A serious confinement in sketching the
feminine profile in the period we focus on is
generated by the fact that the children‘s
parentage was, as a rule, documented only by
the recording of the father‘s name; only in the
case of children from different marriages, the
same mother descent (frateres uterinus) was
mentioned, but in general she was almost never
named. For the daily activities, housekeeping or
managing the family goods and inter-familial
relations the reference sources are by far the
most laconic. It is impossible to restore the place
and role the noble woman had in medieval
Banat, on the basis of sure detailed elements.
We can certainly use the analogies within the
general medieval area or the neighbor areas that
Some General Reference Points
Examining the image of the noble woman
in Banat in the Middle Ages may appear from
the very beginning as a failed attempt, as the
scarcity of the references and the dominantly
patrimonial subject that excluded the woman‘s
presence from the beginning, all confine such a
historiographic approach to serious limits. The
feminine presence – especially the individualized one – is almost entirely absent in the 14th
– 15th century documents; the main cases refer to
somebody‘s wife or widow, daughter or sister.
During the Middle Ages, the noble woman‘s
existence is in fact intrinsically connected to her
family and she never appears out of the familial
parental nucleus or of that one she enters
through a matrimonial alliance.
In other words, marriage played a social
role of a distinct importance within the nobles‘
life, and that was the same for any of the social
structures. Through the matrimonial institution
and the rules that determined the alliances, the
medieval society managed its future, seeking to
perpetuate itself through the preservation of the
existing structures. The marriage rituals were
28
could have been better represented in
documents, but the truth is that there are only
few concrete elements to ground such an
interpretation. The woman‘s position and role in
Banat medieval society were, without doubt,
much more complex, and all the above
appreciations belong to our perception, not to
the real situation. Unfortunately we do not
possess today those material references to certify
this assertion. In the 14th–15th century Banat, the
patrimonial system was re-set on the new
Angevin law in fact, that associated the
inheritance rights to the written acts (Pleşia
1987, 197; Pop 1991, 22; Drăgan 2000, 125;
Feneşan 2007, 15-16). But those acts were
always emitted in favor of male owners and of
their male descendants. Consequently, the
woman‘s presence had no chance to be
mentioned in those documents; as the latter
represented the main part of the written sources,
the result was a dense semidarkness surrounding
the image of the noble woman.
We may mention in the same time that
women were not mentioned in the land
transactions or inheritance on the primary
position, had no legal identity, and, so much the
less, they did not practice one of the main noble
tasks: the military service. In fact, one of the
reasons to exclude women from the right of
inheritance was couched as following: ‗women
and girls don‘t become inured and cannot serve
with arms under color and fight against the
enemies (mulieras autem et puelle armis
militare cum hostibusque decertare non solent
neque possunt)‘ (apud Pascu 1986, 19).
Economic reasons can also be mentioned here,
as the general interest was in ownership units‘
production and ability to serve the state
authorities. The nobles‘ estates were protected
too from an excessive division by promoting the
general rule of male principle relating to
succession; especially that the nobles from the
Hungarian kingdom did not know the
primogeniture so that all the inheritors had equal
rights, in contrasts with the Western feudal law
(Pop 1997, 51). In spite of its restrictive
character, that succession basic rule did not
entirely neglect the girls‘ inheritance rights, the
so-named quarta puellaris (Tripartitum P. I., tit.
88, 89, 90; Istoria dreptului românesc 1980,
530). According to that rule, the excluded from
the real estate inheritance girls were entitled to
¼ of the inheritance value in money by being
dowered by their parents or by their brothers
after the parents‘ death. What is interesting is
that often they were given parts of the estate for
dowry, by law trespassing, probably like a
pledge until the real inheritors could pay the full
amount of money. But it seems that the
Romanian law in practice at that time gave the
inheritors and inheritress‘ equal inheritance
rights relating to the whole parental ownership.
Therefore, they might assert that the Romanian
women‘s inheritance rights followed the
Romanian law, in competition with the noble
rights (Drăgan 2000, 205-206).
Since the end of the 15th century and
during the 16th-17th century we may notice in the
existing documents a certain shift concerning the
woman‘s presence in society and, by that, in the
documents. First of all, the need to preserve the
real estate within the family in the case of
defectum seminis determined the Hungarian
royalty to admit a concept like praefectio at the
level of noble elites, through which the
inheritance rights were transferred to daughters;
in order to equally and legally access the
parents‘ ownership, daughters became men from
the legal point of view. Moreover, we might
assert that trough this inheritance rights transfer
to women, the male principle - which dominated
the kingdom in terms of a succession rule - was
harmonized with the Romanian law in which the
female succession was also allowed. Such a
procedure was always undertaken with the
king‘s agreement, previously asked by a
nobleman. Acts of similar nature seem to have
been expanded in Banat as well, a concrete
example being the case of the well known
family Fiat of Armeniş (1) (Ţigău 1996, 33;
Boldea 2002, 237). The documents went as far
as to mention that certain possessions were to be
obtained and owned by Banat elite‘s members
with the inheritance right both for male and
female descendants; one of the first concrete
document in such a case is dated 1458 and
certified that the succession right within the
noble family of Bizerea of Caransebeş was
incumbent both upon sons and daughters (2)
(Hurmuzaki 1894, II/4, 56; Feneşan 1981, 38).
We have not found such a mention in the case of
(1) According to the documents after the delicate
situation of the family in the first years of the 16 th
century, when one of its members had been
accused of homicide and menaced with the right
of desherence, his brother redeemed those parts of
estate which could have been alienated from the
familial patrimony, and asked the king Vladislaus
II the right to transfer his possessions both to his
male and female descendants.
(2) It was about an estate uniting between the two
nobles, Nicolae of Bizerea and Iacob of Racoviţă,
in order to protect their possessions from possible
alienation in the case of defectum seminis.
29
other families – as the Mâtnics or the Măcicaşs –
as they had a rich male descent and probably the
women‘s right of inheritance opening was
useless. A better individualization of the female
figures is also to be noticed, as they were named
and escape therefore from the former
semidarkness, and so we might see their true
presence within the communities they are living
in. They appear in front of the judge bench,
fighting for their inheritance rights; also, they
were named by their fathers as the main
inheritresses; they took part in land transactions
too (acquisitions, pledging, and sales); they
wrote wills concerning their personal goods
(even real estates - some of them - that were
bought during their marriage or widowhood);
they also protected their minor children against
their relatives‘ trials to eliminate them from the
inheritance; they raised objections to vesting of
possession; they expressed their religious
options (by adhering, for instance, to the tertiary
Catholic orders or making donations to abbacies.
privileged statute, its obvious respectability, its
scholarship and wealth that were intrinsically
supposed by such functions. But on the other
hand, according to its 13 ownerships that formed
the stable nucleus of its real estate (leaving out
of account the temporary or random possessions
of some of its members), the nobles Simon of
Caransebeş family did not rank among the great
estates owners in Banat of Caransebeş and
Lugoj, being outrun by other families such as
Fiat, Găman-Bizerea, Jojica or Vaida, which
possessed through time tens of estates within the
county of Severin or outside it.
An interesting page of that family‘s
history was written by the noble ladies Elisabeta
and Ana Simon, both of them, the aunt and the
niece, being descendants of someone named
Nicolae Simon. Their way to set in vantage
ground in the family and their marriage to
representatives of the known and influent family
of the Mâtniceanus, as well as their way to
administrate their own estates make a conclusive
example of how the patterns and social
coercions concerning women began to relax: the
noble woman became more and more visible and
active within the economy and social life of her
family; such a fact surely brought about a certain
movement freedom, almost inexistent in the
documents referring to the previous centuries.
An extremely interesting figure in that
family was Elisabeta Simon‘s, Nicolae Simon‘s
daughter and sister of Ioan Simon jr., the last
one having repeatedly been a castellan of
Caransebeş between 1585 and 1590 (Pesty
1877-1878, I, 322-323). The first mention of her
name in the documents is dated the 18th of July
1544 (Pesty 1883, 34), the date when, together
with her brothers she took part in the acquisition
of no less than 13 estates in the district of
Caransebeş; those possessions made the real
estate basis of his family. What calls our
attention to her presence within that real estate
transaction is the fact that Elisabeta was named
in the context as a young girl (puella) (1) unlike
her brothers who certainly were adults at the
time. Her presence in that real estate transaction
awakens in fact a double interest: firstly, we
speak about a woman, and especially about one
Female Noble Portraits – The Women in
Simon of Caransebeş’s Family
We aim to show to what extend we could
render the woman‘s status in medieval Banat,
starting from a concrete example of a noble
family history in the 16th-17th c. town of
Caransebeş, the family of Simon of Caransebeş.
It is a case study strictly grounded on the
reference data we have examined. We presume
that such a case may be extrapolated and
enriched according to other sources and
examples. A first notice is that we refer to a
noble family of Caransebeş, Romanian, in our
opinion. That opinion is grounded on the
Romanian milieu of the majority that family
lived in, on matrimonial alliances exclusively
with other Romanian noble families from Banat
or Haţeg (Mâtniceanu, Găman, Domşa or
Băcuţ), and also on the obstinate reiteration of
the same first names, evincing no inclination
towards Magyarization, although the Romanian
elites from Banat had passed the previous
centuries from the Orthodox faith to
Catholicism. The family was also representative
for the ‗new‘ noble functions that had
proliferated in the Eastern Banat since the 15th
century (Costea 2005, 149-150; Boldea 2010,
82-83; Drăgan 2011, 277); some of its members
were attested repeatedly as castellans, mayors,
noble judges or jury men of Caransebeş, an
almost full range of local dignities. It is an
eloquent proof of that family active involvement
in the social-economic and political-legal daily
activities of the town; it also proves its
(1) According to the civil law on the noble woman‘s
right (jus feminem), at that time the legitimate age
of a woman was of 12 years, when she could
decide on certain juridical actions. For the
maturity or the perfect age (aetas perfecta) the
age of 16 was taken into consideration, the
moment the woman got thorough rights
(Tripartitum, P I, tit. 111)
30
who had not come of age (we may estimate her
age at that moment as that of 12-16); secondly,
both her brothers and cousins accepted her as an
equal part within the transaction; it is a fact that
supports the opinion that women in the Simon
family were the object of a special
consideration, an almost equal one to that of the
family male part, and that opinion is certified by
supplementary data; it is a fact less explicitly
present in the time references, and so we
presume it to be generated by some personal
affinities. We dare making such an appreciation
in defiance of the fact that cold, technical
language of the documents lets out almost none
of the testimonies on these figures‘ affective and
emotional character. Given her family position
in the town of Caransebeş (1), Elisabeta Simon
made an extremely good match to one of the
important representatives of the town nobility,
Francisc Mâtniceanu, who is attested between
1548 and 1585 (Pesty 1883, 41, 115). He was
the best situated member of Mâtniceanu family
in the 16th century, as having been for many
years the castellan of Caransebeş (1561-1563
and 1571-1572) (Pesty 1877-1878, III, 298;
Pesty 1883, 90); it was a difficult time of the
power centers re-setting in that area after the
virulent conflicts between Habsburgs and the
Ottomans from the middle of the century and the
town of Caransebeş and the town of Lugoj
option for the Ottoman suzerainty within the
Principality of Transylvania. Unfortunately,
their marriage did not have inheritors or
inheritresses, so in 1585, after Francisc
Mâtniceanu‘s death the question of his relatives‘
successional rights was open in front of the local
authorities, concerning his share of the real
estate of the Mâtniceanus.
The widowhood was an unhappy situation
for any woman of that time due to her precarious
social, legal and economic status. According to
that time law, a widow without children had the
right on the whole estate of her husband – if he
had not left a will – as long as she remained
unmarried (Magina 2011, 286). Probably, the
soundness of her marriage, the stateliness of her
husband‘s functions, as well as that one given by
her own family‘s members justified Elisabeta to
come into conflict with her husband‘s relatives
concerning his inheritance which was a
considerable part of the Mâtniceanus‘
ownership. The litigations series began on the 8th
of June 1585 (Pesty 1883, 73), when the
members of the family‘s three branches –
Mâtniceanu, Fărcaş and Groza-Ţeicu – came
before the castellans of Caransebeş to ask for
their shares of the estates from the villages of
Măru, Mâtnic, Belien, Morencz, Ohaba, Sacu,
and Cernota vesting of possession, and also from
Măru, Mâtnic, Belien, Morencz, Ohaba, Sacu
and Zgribest predia (county of Severin, district
of Caransebeş), all of them having remained
after Francisc Mâtniceanu‘s death without
descendants. The widow opposed to such a
requirement and asked to keep those possessions
as long as she bore her husband‘s name. After
only three days, on the 11th of June 1585
(Feneşan 1981, 70), the situation got
complicated as Baltazar Zagyvai with a princely
letter, vesting of possession, came at Morencz to
pass their possession in his own name and in the
name of his relatives. The document dated the
11th of June rounded the previous one, namely
that not only the dead Francisc Mâtniceanu‘s
possession were in question but also those ones
of Mihail Mâtniceanu, who probably died at the
same time, without descendants. In the second
place, the vesting of possession generated two
impediments: one belonged to noble Ladislau
Bratovan who opposed for Mihail Mâtniceanu‘s
shares; the other one was raised by Lupu
Mâtniceanu (who initially belonged to the
common familial interests) in his own name,
both for Francisc Mâtniceanu‘ and Mihail
Mâtniceanu‘s inheritances. Lupu Mâtniceanu
was married at that time to Ana Simon, Elisabeta
Simon‘s niece. In accordance with the time
usage, the opponent parts that were constituted
on that day had to appear after 15 days before
the prince and he had to decide on the cause. We
have no data on the princely judgement solution
concerning the division of the inheritance among
the representatives of the family Mâtniceanu. It
seems that Elisabeta Simon was allowed to keep
her ownership on her former husband‘s
possessions until the end of her life (Pesty 18771878, II, 4).
Elisabeta Simon‘s will from the 6th of June
1599 – written in the presence of several
Romanian nobles from Caransebeş –, is
extremely suggestive in what concerns the
wealth of a noble woman at that time, and also
her right to dispose of her own goods. First of
all, it is worth mentioning an aspect: by her will
the noble lady disposed also of the goods that
had remained from her husband, to an equal
extend with the ones she gathered along her life.
The main beneficiaries were Lupu Mâtniceanu,
her niece Ana Simon and the latter‘s children
(1) Her uncle Gheorghe Simon was a judex primarius
of Caransebeş, as her cousin from father, Ioan
Simon senior also was, while her brother, as we
have seen, was a castellan of the town.
31
from the marriage to Lupu Mâtniceanu, as well
as Ioan Simon‘s sons (we presume the last one
to have been her brother). She bequeathed Lupu
Mâtniceanu the shares of the estates in the
villages of Sacu, Mâtnic, Morencz, Cernota,
Ohaba, Ruginos, Măru and Zgribest – that had
belonged to Francisc Mâtniceanu (in fact, they
were parts of the family Mâtnic‘s land
possessions that were now directed towards a
unique inheritor, the other branches of the
family being excluded). He also inherited the
glade, the hay fields and the cultivated fields
around Morencz, which had been probably
bought by the will‘s author, as well as the
amount of 6 thalers. Elisabeta Simon proved to
be very generous with her own family: she left
Ana Simon and her sons the mills in Măru and
Morencz that had been built at her expense
(Pesty 1877-1878, II, 5), half of the kitchen
gardens and an amount of money; Gabriel
Mâtniceanu, Lupu Mâtniceanu‘s son with Ana
Simon, was given a silver sword ordered by her
former husband; Magdalena Mâtniceanu, also
Lupu‘s and Ana‘s daughter, was given a golden
silver goblet and a silver glass; Ioan Simon‘s
sons were given a hay field at Racoviţa, as well
as the cattle, grains and money that would
remain after her death. In the same way a certain
Francisc Lazăr was also given the lands the will
specifies to be his proper share. Francisc Fodor
was given a house in Caransebeş near to his own
dwelling. We may note that in her way,
Elisabeta Simon proved to have been a good
manager of her husband‘s estate, but also of her
own, that she increased it along her life and
disposed of which by will after her death, with a
distinct fondness to her own family to which she
would let the main part of her estate.
Another female figure in the family,
whose historical portrait may be sketched was
Ana Simon, Mihai Simon‘s daughter and Ioan
Simon junior‘s and Elisabeta Simon‘s niece.
Through marriage she also entered the numerous
and influential family of the Mâtniceanus, and
we mayt ask if that marriage was not in fact
facilitated by the previous marriage of her aunt
Elisabeta within the same family. She had
several sons and daughters, but only the names
of Gabriel, Ioan and Magdalena were recorded
in the documents of the time. The documents
present her as an active and tenacious woman
who did not hesitate to appear repeatedly before
the judge bench when she was to protect both
the rights from her parental inheritance, and her
children‘s rights as successors of Mâtniceanu‘s
estate. From her youth she faced the issue of
inheritance when, on the 27th of November 1582,
after the death of her father, Mihail Simon, and
following a previous understanding between that
one and his brother, Ioan Simon junior (the
young girl‘s uncle) she would be given a part of
villages Domaşnea, Cornea, Cănicea, Cornereva,
Bogâltin and Zăgujeni; but Ioan Simon did not
do such a thing and kept the goods under his
ownership (Feneşan 1981, 65; Costea 2005, 106,
111). It calls our attention the fact that those
possessions were not part of the land patrimony
of Simon family being joined possessions of the
families Vaida, Moise and Fodor, who disputed
them for decades (Ţigău 2008, 205). We do not
know yet how Ana Simon‘s father got the
possession of some parts of those estates. It is
certain however that they belonged to his own
estate, so he thought to have the right to leave to
his daughter that legacy, and his brother Ioan
Simon agreed at least as long as Mihail Simon
was alive. After Mihail Simon‘s death the uncle
refused to honour the understanding and kept for
himself the respective parts of estates he had no
right on. Ana Simon‘s case was brought to court
in 1582 and two years later it would be rebrought with Lupu Mâtniceanu, her husband‘s
support, a fact that certainly improved the legal
argumentation. So, on the 1st of May 1584
(Feneşan 1981, 66; Costea 2007, 107), Prince
Sigismund Báthory of Somlio asked several
noblemen from Caransebeş to look for Ioan
Simon junior and admonish him for his refusal
to hand over to the plaintiff the parts of the
parental inheritance, and asking him either to
submit the princely will or to come to the Court
in order to clarify the situation. Although we do
not know the final decision of that lawsuit, we
presume an amiable understanding between Ana
Simon and her uncle, as on the 11th of March
1590 (Veress 1931, 210-211) the two, together
with Elisabeta (Ersilia) Simon and other
representatives of Vaida and Jojica families
summoned before the judge the nobles Francisc,
Petru and Pavel Măcicaş for the estate they had
in the county of Hunedoara, but the document
does not mention the possessions in question.
For being a complex cause, the families of
Simon, Vaida and Jojica ascertained it to Ioan
Boronkai to whom they agreed, if they
succeeded, to yield 1/3 from their share from the
gained estates; if not, they would be under no
obligation to him.
At the end of the century, we find Ana
Simon as the main beneficiary of her aunt
Elisabeta Simon‘s will, together with her
husband Lupu Mâtniceanu; from her aunt, she
personally and her sons would receive several
mills at Măru and Morenţ, kitchen gardens,
32
precious objects and money, she and Mihail
Fodor‘s wife being obliged to support the author
of the will until the end of her life. Her husband,
in his turn, also received a great part of
Mâtniceanu‘s estate for which he would
repeatedly appear in court the following years,
pleading against his collateral relatives (Boldea
2011, 262-264). After Lupu Mâtniceanu death,
we notice that Ana Simon assumed the charge of
preserving the inheritance rights of her sons,
Gabriel and Ioan Mâtniceanu, and so, on the 21st
of August 1624 (Pesty 1883, 280), she opposed
the princely decision through which the socalled ‗Zagyvai parts‘ of the Mâtniceanus‘ estate
had to be attributed to Francisc Groza, called
Farkassi of Sacu. It seems that Ana Simon‘s
opposition stood no chance at the given moment,
those ‗Zagyvai parts‘ remaining in Francisc
Groza‘s ownership. It is the last piece of
information on that descendant of Simon family,
a representative of the noble women in
Caransebeş at the turn of the 16th-17th c. that
deserves to be remembered in order to sketch a
more veridical picture of the noble woman‘s role
within the late Middle Ages society in Banat.
Another Ana Simon, a paternal cousin of
the above mentioned woman, was also among
the remarkable representatives of that family.
She is mentioned in the documents especially for
her marriages, to husbands from noticeable
families in Banat of Caransebeş and Lugoj or the
county of Hunedoara, a current experience
among the noble elites of that time, who were so
interested in preserving their privileged status
(Rusu 1997, 30). Her first marriage was to
Ladislau Găman, a member of the influential
family of Bizerea-Găman of Caransebeş with
whom she had only two daughters, Margareta
and Sara (Ţigău 2000, 47), the last one being
married at her turn in the same old family of the
Măcicăşeştis. After her first husband death, she
did not hesitate to appear in court on the 30th of
June 1622 (Feneşan 1981, 150) against her
relative, Nicolae Găman who asked her to give
him back an amount of 60 forints that her
husband had borrowed from him. Never growing
shy, Ana Simon put four of Nicolae Găman‘s
serfs on trial, accusing them of acts of violence
for which she was entitled to ask as much as the
death penalty. Finally, due to some good
people‘s agency, they reached an amiable
agreement, the two parts renouncing their
charges and claim for compensation. In 1622
Ana Simon became a widow and married Ştefan
Lada, a former judex nobilium at Toteşti, district
of Haţeg; some years later she became again a
widow at the age of 68 (Pesty 1877-1878, I,
475), and that is the last datum on her.
Conclusions
The medieval female imagery in Banat
in the period we aim to introspect is grounded
exclusively on the documents of the time, the
only ones that can bring to light a possible
unsubstantial subject in the absence of more,
different, reference sources. We focused the
research on the 16th-17th centuries for a very
good reason: after a long ‗silence‘ in the office
documents of the previous centuries, the
presence of the noble woman in Banat begins to
appear in documents of a probative value, if not
in a dramatic manner at least in one enough to
sketch some feminine portraits that can suggest
some evolutionary characters we might consider
to be extrapolated to the level of the social
universe of that time.
Firstly, based on that particular case of
Simon of Caransebeş‘s family, we can remark
that the women in the noble family assembly
played a more active and better defined role
comparing with other familial nuclei. So, they
took part in real estate transactions on equal
positions with the family male representatives,
they inherited lands – not only the dowry and
dowry goods –, were able to write their wills or
appear in court for their rights or in front of local
or central competent fora. It is a vivid image of a
component of the Romanian society in Banat
from the late Middle Ages, a case study that can
offer more facets to be analyzed by the
historiographic research; these may lead to
define an interesting typology that has to be
integrated to the larger picture of Banat social
elites. Secondly, the documentary data show
doubtlessly that the noble women of the time
owned lands, gardens, hay fields, houses,
money, serfs, animals, jewels, and precious
clothes – possessions that proceeded from the
dowry given by a noble father or from their
lifelong acquisitions, following their marriages,
their sale contracts, or from the pledges they
made. There are not few the cases in which the
documents stipulate that certain goods were
obtained by the noble ladies from their own
revenues, and in many cases that they were
bought during their widowhood. Such a reality
may show that during their marriage the
management of the family estate might have
belonged to women as well, although the men in
the family were more visible in the documents.
In fact, all the three noble ladies in the family of
Simon of Caransebeş – despite their good
matches within the local society that
33
Costea, Ionuţ ‘Solam virtutem et
nomen bonum’. Nobilitate, Etnie,
Regionalism
în
Transilvania
princiară (sec. XVII) [‘Solam
virtute et nomen bonum’. Nobility,
Ethnicity,
Regionalism
in
Principality of Transylvania (17th
century)], Cluj-Napoca, 2005.
Drăgan,
Ioan,
Nobilimea
Drăgan
românească din Transilvania
2000
1440-1514 [Romanian nobility of
Transylvania 1440-1514], Bucureşti, 2000.
Duby 1997 Duby, Georges, Cavalerul, femeia,
preotul (Căsătoria în Franţa
feudală) [Knight, woman, priest
(Mariage in medieval France)],
Bucureşti, 1997.
Istoria
dreptului
românesc
Istoria
[History of Romanian Law], I
dreptului
Bucureşti, 1980.
românesc
Pascu,
Ştefan,
Voievodatul
Pascu
Transilvaniei [The voivodship of
1986
Transylvania], III, Cluj-Napoca
1986.
Pop,
Ioan
Aurel,
Instituţii
Pop 1991
medievale româneşti. Adunările
cneziale şi nobiliare (boiereşti) din
Transilvania în secolele XIV-XVI
[Romanian medieval institutions.
Aristocratic
and
knezial
assemblies in 14-16th centuries
Transylvania], Cluj-Napoca, 1991.
undoubtedly provided them with a consistent
material and moral support – had to face
widowhood and fight for their rights and – when
the case - for their children‘s. They proved an
enterprising and dynamic nature, that made them
able to battle their own way within an
exclusively male world, and so they became
models for other women of their time. However,
in the absence of some pertinent sources, it is
hard to evaluate to which extend that model
spread within the social milieu of the period.
Costea
2005
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(Origine, statut, evoluţie)‘ [The
Romanian elite in Transylvania of the
13th-14th centuries (Origin, statute,
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35
The Influence of Italian Masters toward the Masques of Inigo Jones
(17th Century)
Mihaela TIVDĂ
PhD Student, University of Bucharest – University Of Architecture and Urbanism ‗Ion Mincu‘
Center of Excellence in Image Studies (C.E.S.I.), Bucharest, Romania,
E-mail: mihaelativda@yahoo.com
Abstract. This study underlines the important influence of the Italian masters toward the work of
the English scene designer and architect, Inigo Jones (1573-1652). Being considered a ‗Vitruvius
Britannicus‘ of his time, Jones ‗revolutionized‘ the British architecture and theatre during Stuart dynasty
thanks to his brilliant mind which absorbed like a sponge all the new artistic theories. Inigo Jones had
inexhaustible resources thanks to his creative genius and that is why he is considered to be the ‗first
English classical architect‘, closely connected to the Italian space, who introduced new aesthetic and
philosophical standards in the English culture from the 17th century.
Key words: Inigo Jones, classical architecture, perspective stage, skenographia, masques, Italy
The new ‘Vitruvius Britannicus’
beginning of his career. On his notes from the
Roman sketch his motto was based on a neostoic belief: ‗Basta quel che contenta‘ (‗That
which contents is sufficient‘). However, after
improving his artistic qualities, he adopted
another saying, from Petrarch‘s Trionfo
d’Amore: ‗Altro diletto che imparar non trovo‘
(‗I find no other delight than in learning‘)
(Chaney 2006, 20).
It is well-known that during his lifetime
Inigo Jones made three journeys in Italy (from
1595-1603, 1609 and 1613-1615) which
completely changed his way of thinking and
working. On his first journey, in Venice and
Firenze, he meets Bernardo Buontalenti (15311608) an Italian painter, architect and scene
designer from the Medici court. From now on,
he acquires and assimilates many design
techniques from this Italian artist and also from
other masters such as Palladio, Scamozzi and
Serlio.
But, the true change and ‗cultural
revolution‘ take place on his final journey to
Italy, from 1612-1615, when he joins Earl
Arundel and his wife in a great ‗giro d‘Italia‘ ‗as
art commentator and guide‘ because, like the
English Ambassador in Venice, Sir Dudley
Carleton wrote, Inigo was very useful to Lord
Arundel ‗by reason of his language and
experience of these parts‘ (Barefoot 1993, 73).
In his copy book of Palladio‘s Quattro
Libri dell’Archittetura, and in his Roman Scheck
(Figure 2), Jones noted numerous observations
regarding the buildings, temples and antiquities
he studied in Italy. He had a main interest in the
Born in London in 1573, in a humble
Welsh family, Inigo Jones (Figure 1) will
become the first English architect, painter,
engineer and scene designer from the
seventeenth century. The impact of his work, as
well as that of Ben Jonson, is extremely strong
on English mentalities and art.
His theoretical writings were inspired by
the works of the Italian architect Andrea
Palladio (1518 -1580) and his theatrical scenery
and buildings were influenced by Vitruvian
theories regarding the proportion and symmetry
rules.
The first 30 years of his life are unclear
due to the lack of accurate data and information
preserved. However, we know for sure that his
early career started as ‗a picture maker‘, in 1603
but, in the absence of any official documents, we
can easily say that Inigo Jones was an
autodidact, as Ben Jonson and Shakespeare‘
were before him. Inigo Jones himself says that:
‗being naturally inclined in my younger years to
study the arts of design I passed into foreign
parts to converse with the great masters thereof
in Italy, where I applied myself to search out the
ruins of those ancient buildings which, în despite
of time itself and the violence of barbarians, are
yet remaining. Having satisfied myself in these,
and returning to my native country, I applied my
mind more particularly to the study of
architecture‘ (James Lees-Milne 1953, 20).
The influence of the Italian classical
school of architecture may be seen from the
36
classical and also the neoclassical schools of
architecture.
In Milan, Turin, Venice, Vicenza, Naples
and Rome he found inspiration for his future
buildings and other architectural works from
home, especially for Saint Paul‘s Cathedral,
being inspired by The Baths of Diocletian and
Basilica of Maxentius from Rome. Also, being
in Rome, Jones studied very well the Roman
Forum and the surrounding ruins (for e.g. Santa
Francesca Romana, Arch of Constantine – used
as a model for his future Temple Bar in London,
Temple of Antoninus and Faustina), Basilica
Santa Maria Maggiore, Lateran Palace and San
Giovanni Lateran, The Pantheon, Bramante‘s
tempietto in Saint Peter in Montorio, the Villa of
Pope Julius III and the ancient Roman way, Via
Appia. In Naples he studied the Italian Palazzi
of the mid-16th century and it is possible that the
buildings analyzed here inspired him for
Whitehall Palace from England. Moreover, ‗it
was in Veneto and Emilia Romagna that Jones
would have found the architectural tradition
developed by Bramante, Serlio, Giuglio
Romano, Palladio, Scamozzi, in Verona Michele
Sanmichelli, at its strongest‘ (Worsley 2007,
25). Venice was at that point an important
European cultural center, although it was always
half a century behind the rest of the Italy in its
development. Among all his visits abroad
Jones ‗brought back the simplicity of design‘
(Barefoot 1993, 79) and the ‗revolution‘ that he
started is not just in architecture but also in
theatre where ‗he invented the great picture
frame proscenium opening, which has, with the
drop scene and movable stage ornaments,
persisted from his day to ours‘ (Ramsey 1924,
25).
In all Inigo‘s work we can see clearly a
connection with the classical architecture ‗based
on the primacy of Antiquity, as interpreted
principally by Vitruvius, and on the classical
orders of architecture as development by Alberti,
Bramate, Raphael and a sequence of other
architects including in particular Giuglio
Romano and Sebastiano Serlio. Though this
canonical tradition was epitomized by Palladio,
in particular his Quattro Libri dell’Archittetura
(…)‘ (Giles Worsley 2007, 1).
Also, other source of inspiration for Jones
was Constantino de Servi, a Florentine painter
and artist who also visited London in 1613, and
who produced the scenery for the Somerset
Masque of Thomas Campion.
More likely Inigo‘s talent as a great
architect reaches its peak in 1622 when he
finishes the new building for the Banqueting
House, a new hall dedicated to the court
masques. His architectural talent among
Rubens‘s painted ceiling is just another element
that emphasizes the divine monarchy theory and
a tribute to King James I, presented in his
apotheosis, like an ancient Roman emperor.
Rubens‘s paintings are three main canvasses
which depict The Union of the Crowns, the
Apotheosis of King James I (Figure 3) and The
Peaceful Reign of James I.
His impressive collection of architectural
books and scene designs includes works as:
Philibert de l‘Orme‘s Le premier tome de
l’archirecture (1569), Regole delli cinque ordini
d’architettura, of Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola,
from 1607 and Giorgio Vasari‘s Delle vite de’
piu eccellenti pittori, scultori et architettori
(1568).
We also know that he bought a copy of
Scamozzi‘s book, L’idea della architettura
universale, from 1617, and that he made
annotations on the margin, like in the case of
Palladio‘s work. This means that he seriously
studied the theoretical foundation and after that
he developed his own style. He ‗educated
himself‘ about architecture in all this time and it
is interesting that in his buildings, as in his
designs for the masque shows, he emphasized
Vitruvius theories about the principles of
harmonic beauty, symmetry and proportions.
As we are going to see further in this
study, it was a common practice in Renaissance
and Baroque time for most of the European
architects to design not just buildings, but also
stage sets for the theatre spectacles. Today‘s
main type of architectural drawings was defined
by Vitruvius. Scenographia, as it was described
by him, will be accomplished only in the 16th
and 17th centuries by masters from the Italian
and French courts like: Salviati, Jaques Callot,
Stefano della Bella, Serlio, Buontalenti,
Parmigiano, Scamozzi, Alfonso and Giuglio
Parigi (main scenery artists from the court of the
Grand Dukes of Tuscany). All this, among the
book of Cesare Ripa were Inigo‘s sources of
inspiration and borrowing. That is why in his
work we can find all the new and fundamental
elements from the Italian Baroque stagecraft: the
curtain and the arch scène, the prospective
scene, scena ductilis, machina versatilis, the
illumination of the scene etc (Folena 1969, 8).
All the English masques from 1605 to
1640 included a large stage with a proscenium
and perspective scenery, a practice influenced by
the European fashion at that time. But from all
these works Nicolla Sabbatini‘s Practica di
fabricar scene e machine ne’teatri from 1638 is
37
clearly the most important treaty for Inigo
Jones‘s stagecraft designs. Serlio believed, like
Jones, that the stage machinery had the role ‗to
evoke wonder in the minds of spectators and,
above all, as a way of expressing the
magnificence of monarch‘ (Strong 1984, 156).
After his last visit in Italy, in 1615, he
succeeded Simon Basil as Surveyor of the King’s
Work and practically he begins his career as a
true architect. In his only six buildings that
survived in England, we can clearly see that his
‗architecture was not based simply on the use of
the orders but on the graduated application of
classical ornament to buildings whose essential
design is based on symmetry and order. The
degree of ornament was depended on the
particular purpose of the specific building, that
is, on the fundamental classical belief in
propriety or decorum‘ (Worsley 2007, 72).
From 1615 to the end of his life, Jones
was more and more aware of his role and
profession and declared: ‗But I am truly /
Architectonicus Professor, rather/That is (as one
would say) an architect‘ (Ramsey 1929, 11).
Starting from this theoretical foundation,
Inigo Jones, armed with his copy-books of
Palladio and Serlio‘s works, will create a new
artistic gender, based on the visual and
performing arts, establishing an organic union of
music, dance and drama: the court masques.
These artistic influences appeared first in Italy
and then were adopted in France and later in
England. They had all the necessary elements to
create a court spectacle: pastoral, classical and
mythological motives, scene design and new and
complex stage machinery. (Guardamagna, Anzi
2002, 135). The English massively ‗imported‘
from the two different examples, and managed
to generate, despite all the accusations of
plagiarism, an original and innovative artistic
genre. The masque remains a mixture of the
English tradition and the foreign influences,
especially the Italian ones.
also a religious significance: the mask reminding
of the golden one worn by God and the
archangels in the medieval mysteries.
The word masque appears only in the 17th
century and it is the French word given by Ben
Jonson. At their beginnings, the English black
masks worn by the Tudor actors were called
‗guizard‘ or ‗visor‘ which signified mask. They
were an amateur production, involving the royal
household and the nobility in which music and
dancing played a more important part than the
text. Only after their development in the
Renaissance Italy, at the court of Lorenzo de
Medici, these spectacles became more
elaborated, resembling more to the spectacular
mascarade (masquerade) and the French balletcomique. The Tudor‘s masks are considerably
less elaborated but they keep the same structure
as the later masques. ‗The masque and its
physical setting were designed to work together
in creating an effect of royal splendor and
generosity‘ (Astington 1999, 114).
After returning from Italy in 1605, Inigo
Jones introduced the mobile setting, first used at
the Oxford University (cast decoration in the
form of a rotating screen in Italian manner
(Histoire de la Musique, vol. I: Des origines a
Jean – Sêbastien Bach, 1960, 1749). However,
the first masque performed at the Stuart court
was Ben Jonson‘s Masque of Blackness from
1605 and the last one, William Davenant‘s
Salmacita Spolia, from January 1640 (this
masque reveals a naïve idealism of king Charles
I about his absolute and divine powers). The
initiative of these complex theatrical shows
belongs to consort Queen, Anne of Denmark
(patroness and protector of Jacobean court
culture, the one who adopted a cosmopolitan and
extravagant lifestyle). She will instruct Ben
Jonson and Inigo Jones to organize a spectacle
in 1605, which introduced some ‗moving
scenes‘ and new scene ‗machineries‘, like the
moving sea. The word had an Italian origin,
‗macchina‘ and in some texts we find it like
‗engine‘ or ‗machine‘: ‗scenes and machines
were the two basic elements in the presentation
of a theatrical performance during the early 17th
century‘ (Nicoll 1938, 60).
In these court festivities, public access was
strictly forbidden, unlike the Elizabethan era,
and the shows were entirely sponsored by the
king himself, who became the main patron of the
artists. The hall where the shows were
performed was arranged like a local theatre, and
the stage played a key part in the whole quasidramatic fiction. Usually, most of the English
masques were presented in the Banqueting
Revolutionizing the English theatre
The origins of the English masques come
from a very distant past, recalling the old pagan
rites of agriculture from the Greek, Roman,
Celtic and Teutonic cults. With this opportunity
the evil spirits were banished by the disguising
and masks that people wore. In the Middle Ages
the ritual is more clearly defined and takes a
theatrical form, being called ‗carnival‘ and
preserving two different functions until the
Renaissance age: a political and a moral one.
(Guardamagna, Anzi 2002, 131). Also, in the
medieval times, the tradition of mask theatre has
38
and was inspired by, were Sebastiano Serlio‘s Il
Secondo Libro di Perspettiva, from 1545,
Daniele Barbaro‘s La Pratica della Prospettiva,
published in 1559, in Venice, Giovanibattista
Giraldi Cinthio, with his work from 1554,
Discorso sulle tragedie, and Leone de‘Sommi‘s
book, Quattro dialoghi in materia di
rappresentazioni sceniche, 1556-1561. They
theorized about the scenic space and their ideas
revolutionized the world of theatre. That is how
we can explain the fact that in the English
masque we find traces of the Aristotelian theory,
which were assimilated as well by the Italian
artists.
In his book entitled De Architettura,
dedicated to the Roman emperor Augustus,
Vitruvius speaks about the Greeks and Roman
theatres, establishing the rules for the
construction of a typical Roman theatre, the
model being the one of Marcellus from Rome
(Figure 5).
The most important Italian entertainment
from the 16th century that obviously inspired
Jones was the Florentine Intermezzi from 1589,
at the Medici court (in Uffizi Theatre), entitled
La Pellegrina (Figure 6). Honoring the marriage
between the Grand Duke Ferdinand I and
Christine of Lorraine, the six entertainments
performed with this occasion were staged ‗in a
large room that was approximately three times
as long as it was wide. The stage was raised
above the auditorium floor to which it was
connected by an oval stair‘ (Weil 1983, 10).
The designs were made by Buontalenti
and the text was written by Girolamo Bargagli.
We know from the sources that Inigo Jones
copied them in 1611 because his drawings for
sets and costumes from the masque are
sometimes borrowed consistently from the
Italian and French designs (Figure 7). In The
Masque of Hymenaei, from 1605, he includes
another borrowed idea from the Italian sources
(probably from Le Nozze degli dei from 1637),
the one of the microcosms: Jones designs a huge
globe that spins. But not all the stage drawings
of Inigo Jones are borrowed from Italy or
France. In D‘Avennant‘s masque, Britannia
Triumphans, ‗he showed beyond the perspective
of a street of houses a view of London‘ (Yates
1969, 173) and this is not the only example that
it had been recorded.
Another strong connection with the Italian
culture is the one regarding the old British
tradition about the king‘s descending from the
Trojans, in Brutus‘s person. This links very well
with Jones‘s attempt to connect this theory with
the Stonehenge‘s architecture. Commissioned by
House, at Whitehall Palace, were the main royal
ceremonies and celebrations took place. There
were also cases in which the masques were
hosted by some English nobleman (like the show
The Gypsies Metamorphosed, from 1623,
offered by the Duke of Buckingham in King‘s
James honour) but the exceptions were very few
because the king‘s court showed a true
monopoly over the masques spectacles. ‗The
banqueting houses were particularly favoured
for the masques which became a feature of
Stuart court life, no doubt because they offered
plenty of space for the special demands of these
entertainments, which called for a dancing-floor
in front of a scenic stage which was commonly
quite large‘ (Astington 1999, 53). This style
influenced Jones from the Palladio‘s frons
scenae in Teatro Olimpico from Vicenza.
(Figure 4)
Therefore, the new artistic genre that
arouse in Europe in 17th century needs a new
physical space to develop: ‗festivals were now
removed into the confines of the palace in the
form of the spectacular court masques staged in
temporary theatres erected in great sale des fêtes
we know as the Banqueting House (…) In 1637
a separate Masque Room was erected,
forerunner surely, had the monarchy survived, of
a permanent court theater of the type established
in Florence in 1586‘ (Strong 1984, 154). As a
stage designer Jones sought to improve himself
constantly and he managed to create some
ingenious machines which amazed the audience
every time, thanks to his engineering talents.
From 1605 to 1640 he produced more than
30 masques and show designs and as a proof of
his impressive work we have his 450 drawings
and sketches.
What was new and really ‗revolutionary‘
for the history of the English theatre was the
perspective stage.
The ancient Greeks were the first who put
into practice the principles of perspective scenes,
early in the fifth century BC. They also invented
the term skenographia (that means scene
painting, the art of portraying objects or scenes
in perspective) which will became the technical
term for any artwork executed in perspective.
The perspective applied to the space of the
theatre supports the concept of a privileged
optical point placed in the middle of the room,
where the king was situated. Anna Anzi says,
quoting Roy Strong that the king sees perfectly
the show, being in the same time the centre of
the masque (Guardamagna, Anzi, 2002, 135).
The Italian works regarding the practice of
perspective sceneries that Inigo Jones may read
39
the King James I, in 1620, to discover the
mystery of Stonehenge, Jones develops a version
according to which Stonehenge monument is an
ancient Roman temple dedicated to Caelus, the
celestial divinity. With his theory he tries to
underline two main issues: the fact that the
British are the true descendants of the Romans
and the second, that the king could be associated
with that celestial god, Caelus, and worship like
a Sun-God, reminding about the heliocentric
politic of Masque of Blackness, from 1605. King
James‘s triumphal entering in London in March
1604 restores the ancient principle of harmony
and proportion through a series of triumphal
arches dedicated to the new king which were
directly inspired by the triumphal arches created
to the archduke Albert and infant Isabella in
1566, in Antwerp (Harris, Orgel, Strong, 197, p.
24).
The heliocentric theory of the infinite
universe is also reflected and underlined in
English masques. Another influence from Italy
is Giordano Bruno‘s philosophy. In her article
entitled Giordano Bruno and the Stuart Court
Masque from 1995, Hillary Gatti says that there
is a close connection between the English
masque and the works of Giordano Bruno. In De
triplici minimo, from 1589, he gives importance
to the British monarchy by making references to
the future James I. It is possible that Bruno
inspired himself in De gli eroici furori, from the
Ballet comique de la Royne by Balthasar de
Beaujoyeulx, from 1581, when he visited Henry
III‘s court in Paris. This entertainment was more
an English masque than a ballet and inspired
Bruno‘s later works when he presents the
monarch as a divinity. His presence in the
Jacobean and Caroline masques appears first in
Thety’s Festival, by Samuel Daniel, continuing
with Masque of Blackness, Masque of Beauty
and Love’s Triumph through Callipolis,
performed later, in 1631. Bruno perceived the
infinite universe like an unbounded ocean and
we find the heliocentric theme of the infinite
universe in the mentioned masques too (Gatti
1995, 816). Inigo creates with this occasion
wonderful machinery which is moving and also
rotating scenes that convey the ‗sea‘ or the
‗ocean‘ from which the masquers reveal
themselves, in front of their divine and ‗centred‘
monarch. Giordano Bruno‘s philosophy is a
revelation of the divine truth sent by God only to
the ‗chosen‘ ones. The masques ‗speaks‘ about
his infinite universe and his heliocentric view
(‗an infinite ocean of divine life‘) but even so,
Ben Jonson has a sceptical position. In 1620 he
writes a satirical masque, News from the New
World Discovered in the Moon, regarding the
theory of the infinite universe. But Jonson
placed the centre of the Masque in England
itself, and his monarch is the Sun whose rays
never set. So, he unintentionally contributes to
the theory of the ‗heliocentric‘ monarchy.
The visual element from the court spectacles
As we have already mentioned, a crucial
spatial principle of the court theatres from the
16th and 17th centuries is closely connected with
the principle of perspective and says that ‗the
royal seat should directly face the stage, and
hence both state and stage were aligned on the
central axis of the chamber. The truly important
matter about the stage‘s being «in the middle of
the hall» was that it should be in the center of
the sovereign‘s view. He or she should also be
able to hear well‘ (Astington 1999, 95). In other
words, the monarch should have to be visible to
his audience.
From this point of view, the masque
requires a religious, aesthetic and political
stratification and it also creates a new culture by
changing the language (creating a new way of
understanding facts for the audience) and also
the space (constructing not just an imaginative
but also a physical one by constructing such
halls like the Banqueting House at Whitehall).
Moreover, as we already underlined before, the
king‘s position plays an important role too:
single-centered, he is surrounded by a
homogeneous mass. This location in space as
monarch, and central point of view creates a
relationship of power. So, what use has this kind
of ‗device‘? The masque emphasizes the central
role played by the king and manipulates public
thinking. Then, the centrality of the monarch
emphasizes both positive (placed to the center)
and negative (placed to the periphery) values
through the masque – antimasque dichotomy.
‗First and foremost the masque was a
statement made visually by means of
engineering. Every stage picture Inigo Jones
presented was a symbol composed of a
composite series of hieroglyphs‘ (Strong 1984,
156) and this means that the audience was
forced to decipher and to understand the new
‗language‘ of these court entertainments.
This study aimed at investigating the
cultural and artistic context of the success of
Inigo Jones as English architect and scene
designer. The role of the masque is a special one
in the court culture of the 16th and 17th centuries
and the ‗cultural revolution‘ from this period,
after Jones‘ Italian and French ‗tours‘, represents
a crucial moment in Britain‘s cultural and
40
artistic history. With a brilliant mind which
absorbed all the new theories like a sponge,
Inigo Jones had inexhaustible resources thanks
to his creative genius. Imagining an illusory
kingdom, for his monarchs through his court
spectacles, Inigo Jones offered a safety and
comfort utopia where James I and Charles I
become ideal kings, loving and nourishing
fathers for their subjects, despite the realities of
civil war. However, Inigo Jones changed ‗the
course of British architecture from the
prodigious eclecticism of the Elizabethans and
Jacobeans to a respect for the principles of order,
grandeur, and harmony, derived from classical
and Renaissance examples‘ (Higgot 1990, 1).
Harris, Orgel,
Strong 1973
Lees-Milne
1953
References
Nicoll 1938
Gati, Hillary, Giordano Bruno and the
Gati
1995 Stuart court masques, New York,
Renaissance Society of America, 1995,
p. 809-842.
Books:
Histoire de la *** Histoire de la Musique,
vol. I: Des origines a JeanMusique
Sêbastien Bach, 1960.
Astington John, English
Astington
Court Theatre, 1558-1642
1999
Cambridge
University
Press, 1999.
Barefoot,
Brian,
The
Barefoot
English Road to Rome,
1993
Images Publishing (Malvern) Ltd., Printed and
Bound in Great Britain,
1993.
Chaney, Edward, Inigo
Chaney 2006
Jones’s Roman Sketchbook,
vol. I-II, The Roxburgh
Club, 2006.
Folena, Strong Folena, Gianfranco, Roy
Strong., Disegni teatrali di
1969
Inigo Jones. Della ioli
Strong. Presentazione di
Gianfranco
Folena,
Venezia, N. Pozza, 1969.
Guardamagna,
Anzi 2002
Ramsey 1924
Strong 1984
Weil 1983
Worsley 2007
Yates 1969
Guardamagna,
Daniela,
Anna Anzi, Storia del teatro
inglese. Il teatro giacomiano e carolino, Roma,
41
Carroci Editore, 2002.
Harris,
John,
Orgel.
Stephen, Strong, Roy, The
King's Arcadia – Inigo
Jones and the Stuart court:
a quatercentenary exhibition held at the Banqueting
House, Whitehall, from July
12th to September 2nd,
1973, catalogue by John
Harris, Stephen Orgel and
Roy Strong, London, Arts
Council of Great Britain,
1973.
Lees-Milne, James, The age
of Inigo Jones,
London,
Batsford, 1953.
Nicoll, Allardyce, Stuart masques and the Renaissance stage. With one
hundred and ninety-seven
illustrations, New York,
Harcourt,
Brace
and
Company, 1938.
Ramsey Stanley C., Inigo
Jones,
London,
Ernest
Benn, Ltd. & Bouverie
Street, 1924.
Strong Roy, Art and power:
Renaissance festivals, 14501650, Woodbridge, Suffolk,
Boydell Press (1984).
Weil Mark S., Baroque
theatre and stage design
Washington
University,
1938.
Worsley, Giles, Inigo Jones
and the European Classicist
Tradition, New Haven/
London, Paul Mellon Center
for Studies in British Art by
Yale University Press, 2007.
Yates, Frances A., Theatre
of the world, London,
Routledge and Kegan Paul
Ltd., 1969, p. 169-186.
Vicenza, Italy. [Artist necunoscut. Teatrul
Olimpic. Partea centrală a scenei. Arcul central
este cunoscut ca ‗porta regia‘ sau ‗arcul regal‘.
Vicenţa, Italia].
List of illustrations
Fig. 1 – Inigo Jones. Self-portrait, 1640. Riba
British Architectural Library Drawings and
Archives Collection. [Inigo Jones. Auto-portret,
1640. Riba British Architectural Library
Drawings and Archives Collection.]
Fig. 5 – Unknown artist. Teatro di Marcello
sketch, 1st century B.C. – 1st century A.C. Rome,
Italy. [Artist necunoscut. Schiţa teatrului
împăratului Marcello, secolele 1 î.Hr. – 1 d.Hr.
Roma, Italia.]
Fig. 2 – Inigo Jones. Roman Sketchbook, 1614.
Chatsworth, England. [Inigo Jones. Schiţe
Romane, 1614. Catsworth, Marea Britanie.]
Fig. 6 – Bernardo Buontalenti, La Pellegrina –
Dorian Harmony, 1589, Italy. [Bernardo
Buontalenti, La Pellegrina – Armonia Dorică,
1589, Italia.]
Fig. 3 – Peter Paul Rubens. The Apotheosis of
King James I, painting ceiling. 1632-1634.
Banqueting House, Whitehall Palace, London.
[Peter Paul Rubens, Apoteoza regelui Iacob I,
picture pe tavanul Banqueting House. 16321634. Palatul Whitehall, Londra.]
Fig. 7 – Inigo Jones. Venus – design for a cloud
machine. The Trustees of the Catsworth
Settlement. [Inigo Jones. Venus – schiţa unei
maşinării care redă un nor.]
Fig. 4 – Unknown artist. Teatro Olimpico (1580)
– Front scene. The large arch in the center is
known as the ‗porta regia‘ or ‗royal arch‘.
Fig. 1 ― Inigo Jones, Self-portrait, 1640
Source: http://www.architecture.com/howwebuiltbritain/historicalperiods/ tudorsandstuarts/
inigojonesandtheenglishrenaissance/ inigojonesselfportrait.aspx
42
Fig. 2 ― Inigo Jones, Roman Sketchbook, 1614
Source: Chaney 2006, p. 79.
Fig. 3 ― Peter Paul Rubens, The Apotheosis of King James I, 1632- 1634.
Banqueting House
Source: http://www.artsunlight.com/artist-NR/N-R0001-Peter-Paul-Rubens/N-R0001-497banqueting-house-whitehall-london-rubens-s-painted-ceiling-central-canvas.html
43
Fig. 4 ― Unknown artist. Teatro Olimpico (1580), Vicenza, Italy
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Veneto_Vicenza1_tango7174.jpg
Fig. 5 ― Unknown artist. Teatro di Marcello sketch, 1st century B.C.- 1st century
A.C. Rome, Italy
Source: http://www.homolaicus.com/storia/antica/roma/teatro_marcello.htm
44
Fig. 6 ― Bernardo Buontalenti, La Pellegrina – Dorian Harmony, 1589, Italy
Source: http://jeannedepompadour.blogspot.ro/2012/04/costumes-by-inigo-jones-andbernardo.html
Fig. 7 ― Inigo Jones. Venus – design for a clod machine
Source: John Harris, The King‘s Arcadia, p. 164
45
How to Convert Privileges into Rights? The Modern Romanian
Elite Genesis during 19th Century
Dragoş SDROBIŞ
PhD Candidate ‗George Bariţiu‘ Institute of History, Cluj-Napoca, Romania
E-mail: dragossdrobis@yahoo.com
Abstract. Tackling the elite‘s theme represented both a modern and modernizing orientation for the
post-communist Romanian historiography. But, as many other ‗conceptual loans‘, the elite concept
embodied for many Romanian historians the very idea of modernity, neglecting the ingénue meaning of
the term. If we choose to analyze the genealogy of this concept, we will find out that the elite-masses
binomial was first used by the Italian sociologists Gaetano Mosca and Vilfredo Pareto in the late 19th
century, the peak of the philosophy of history. For the Italian sociologists this binomial was conceived as
a way to find out a law of history. Thus, the elite concept was designed toreflect the evolution of the
relationship between power and the powerless, whatever the age.
Through this concept it is possible to figure out the reasons that determined the old Romanian elite
to establish a modern state. For landlords (boyars or nobles) a Romanian modern state should become a
mechanism to reinforce the oldattributes ofpower. One of the strongest mechanisms to inoculate such a
new social order was education, with its social model, the intellectual.
Key words: modern Romania, elite, social change, education, intellectual
The critical cultural discourse, main
characteristic of the present multiculturalism,
imposes renunciation to cultural elitism. By this
way, the approach of any subject which refers to
any form of superiority – both in past and
present – is presently regarded with skepticism
and even harshly criticized. The Marxist
paradigm was among the most important
ideological currents that proposed to attenuate
the role of the elite by reshaping the morphology
of history around the concepts of class fight and
social class. Nowadays, the neo-Marxism is
accompanied by multiculturalism, a principle
that wants to found ethno cultural groups‘
relationships from equal positions (Constant
2000, 15-16). In this manner, the new history
promoted by multiculturalism imposed a new
research discourse through which the societies
should be the atoms that must be studied by the
historians. ‗The elitism refers to a research
tradition dedicated almost exclusively to social
origins and to the relationships between those
who occupied privileged social positions, taking
into consideration the reputational aspects of the
Power. Instead, pluralism depicts a research
program which prefers the study of the decisions
and their real consequences, focusing on the
decisional mechanisms‘ (Scott 2001, 12). This
would be the reason why the elite subject was on
the second place for such a long time and was
seen as a form of scientific research that no
longer corresponded to the new social requests.
Despite this discourse that denies any
form of superiority, the egalitarianism as
ideological purpose was finally banished in the
utopia land. Two centuries from the
proclamation of the ‗equality‘ during the French
Revolution, what remained as a political purpose
in the postmodern society is the assurance of the
equality of rights and the equality of chances for
all human beings.
This essay proposes to depict the
evolution of the binomial elite-masses from the
point of view of a new concept, that of social
change and also of social promotion. Originated
in the sociological field and utilized especially
by the social and cultural history, the prevalence
of the social change idea converted the concept
of continuity into an overcome one. The appeal
to the change became the matrix for the past
reinterpretation. Nevertheless, the approach of
the changes that occurred in the Romanian
society during the 19th century can be
summarized in a single line from the novel The
Leopardo by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, in
which an aristocrat seemed to be convinced that
‗If we want things to stay as they are, things will
have to change‘. The adaptation to the new
context – as revealed by this phrase – leads to
the same purpose: the continuity of the idea of
class or family. In order to explain the process of
social change the concept of generation begins
to become more important: ‗the generation in
decline, the generation that is in charge and the
46
generation that aspires to take control – all this
have reactions provoked by some traumatized
historical events, events that tends to accelerate
and to catalyze social change‘ (Burke 1999,
185). In other words, the ‗modernization‘
appears rather as a consolidation process of the
achieved power by the old elite and as a way of
creating a new societal discourse that justifies
the maintenance of power in the hands of the
same aristocracy. Briefly, it is about the famous
theory formulated by Titu Maiorescu, that of
forms without fundament, a paradigm around
which Romanian‘s cultural and social models
were created. What level of degree had this
forms for the Romanian society fundaments?, to
this question I shall try to find an answer.
egalitarianism, the democratic state becomes the
desirable political formula.
The Pareto and Mosca‘s ideas seem to be
very different from the Marxist sociology. For
Pareto ‗there is no serious reason the superiority
of the ruling minorities to come to an end, and
the faith in establishing a social order that
should abolish any differences between
dominants and dominated is just a social utopia‘
(Coenen-Hunther 2007, 53). No matter the
political system, the idea of society itself
requires a minority that is obliged to rule the
social, political and economic establishment. In
this respect, I must point that the difference
between the Marxist approach and Pareto elitist
vision is rather a met theoretical one: for the
Marxists history is perceived as progress and as
a theological phenomenon, while for the Italian
sociologist history – if, indeed, it is governed by
any rule – circumscribes the idea of cycles. For
Pareto, the only aspect that can be ameliorate is
‗the way in which the elite gains the power‘
(Coenen-Hunther 2007, 53). This is why the
mechanism to assure legitimacy becomes more
important. And in modern times legitimacy
resumes itself to the alternativepreeminence or
excellence.
The elites: origin of a concept
The genealogy of the idea of elite is, at
least, an artifact related to the idea of modern
democracy, a mechanism through which
historians, sociologists and anthropologists tried
to reveal the essence of the politics: achieving
power. Two Italian sociologists were those who
theorized this sociological system of elites in the
late 19th century. Considering that modern
democracy is just an appearance and criticizing
the Marxist model that reduced history to the
idea of class struggle, Gaetano Mosca and
Vilfredo Pareto stated that the past represents
variations of the same theme: masses and elites.
This is the reason Gaetano Mosca imposed a
new scheme for interpreting political systems
that are in fact constituted by two recurrent
elements: governors and governed. The firsts
represent a minority no matter the political
system and they build their superiority
especially through organizational capacity and
concerted action, that ‗always triumphs over a
disorganized majority, which has neither will,
nor impulse, nor action in common‘ (Gaetano
Moscaapud Scott 2007, 121). Of course, as any
dominant group, the elite need a mechanism in
order to legitimate the acquirer of the power, to
justify superiority. In other words, the elite need
a political formula, a concept launched by
Mosca in 1884. Through this we should
understand that ‗in all countries that reaches
even a mediocre level of culture, the leading
class justifies the power that is grounded on a
faith that, in a certain age and for a certain
people, is largely accepted‘ (Gaetano
Moscaapud Coenen-Hunther 2007, 69). In
addition, this political formula is related to a
political mechanism: the state. And, due to the
fact that modernity is governed by the ideal of
From Classes Dirigeante to Noblesse d’État.
Elites Consecration through Education
‘The hatred for the upper class is the
involuntary homage brought by the lower
class. In all this surrounding land [..] there
is no face that shows nothing but the dark
respect of fear and slavery’. (Charles
Dickens, A Tale of TwoCities)
‘Qu’est-ce que une élite? C’est un petit
bataillon des âmes vouées à une noble
cause, la défendanténergiquement d’après
les règles d’une sage organisation et
cherchant à entrainer la foule dans la voie
de bien’. (Louis Razuc, L’élite, son rôle et
sa formation)
Modernization means social mobility, a
process that conferred a new polysemy to the
notion of elite, the two excerpts from above
being illustrative for the identity changes that
occurred. For the middle age, a society of ranks,
the Dickens‘ statement reveals how elites were
perceived, because in those times elite was in
fact a political elite. Dirigeantswere those
beneficiaries of the administrative functions
offered by the European monarchs in order to
organize the state. In exchange, the modern elite
calls for other modalities that should reinforce
their power claims by imposing a new social
ideal, a model that had to correspond to the
47
democratic ideals of the society. This new social
ideal, build by the education process, will be that
of the merit. In other words, preeminence was
supposed to be replaced by excellence.
Meritocracy became in fact the mechanism for
implementing the social mobility.
Charles Christophe described how
intellectual elite succeeded through meritocracy
to gain the power in the Third French Republic
(Charle, 1987). Although this principle of
meritocracy was firstly launched during the
Great French Revolution, only the Third French
Republic (since 1870) was the one to demarche
the process of social renovation (Charle, 1990,
11). This is another reason why we may state
that revolution, as a concept, launches and
reinforces the illusion of a dramatic and quick
change, when, in fact, these changes take place
gradually. Regarding the problem of elite, the
French historian considers that the old
aristocracy built its privileges by manipulating
the economic, social and cultural capital (Charle
1987, 28). The economic capital assures in fact
the monopole of the political power due to the
poll tax vote system that splits the people in two
distinct categories: electors – those that
designate the power – and eligible – those that
can aspire to power. More than this, the
economic capital, as a family inheritance,
perpetuates the access to a potent social network
and, by this, to public functions. This is, in fact,
how economic capital turns into a social one.
The lack of economic capital – concludes the
French historian – means the instauration of
meritocracy. It becomes obvious that the cultural
capital becomes crucial. And the only way to
acquire cultural capital is education (Charle
1987, 28).
matter of fact, modalities in order to maintain
power, but not goals for itself. As, for instance,
sometimes simultaneously, an ideological
resource was the anti-Occidentalism or the rural
idealization‘ (Lazăr 2002, 85).
The 19th century is for the Romanian case
the confrontation the old boyars, holders of
important economic capital and the new state
boyars, bureaucrats, dependents on the financial
resources of the state. Initially, the landlords
considered the absence of an autonomous state a
source of insecurity that could very easily affect
its economic capital. The wars, the territorial
concessions from the 18th and early 19th
centuries leaded to the necessity of building a
modern state. Nevertheless, the Adrianople
Treaty (1829), with its favorable terms for the
landlords could not be considered an advantage
for the reign institution and, in extension, for the
state. This is because the economic resources
still remained an advantage of the landlords,
while the state had no economic power. The
primary source of conflict between the old
boyars, the economic independent one, and the
new elite, a state dependent one in its way to the
economic resources traces down to this very
moment.Because the state had no economic
resources, the clash will be leaded against those
who continued to refuse in conceding their
power to the state. It is about the great landlords,
that for a long time were not obliged to
contribute to the state budget, a proof of its
power in the Romanian states. Meanwhile,
during 19th century, the new bureaucratic
nobility had allied with the state in this struggle
against the privileged nobility, a nobility still
refractory to the idea of state recovery budget on
its opulence. From this economic point of view
we can explain the delineation of those two
political poles from the 19th century: the
conservatism, as an expression of the great
landlords that refused any reforms that could
affect the rural property, and liberalism, which
desire was to implement modernization and a
central system for controlling the economic
resources, too. Thus viewed, the modernization
is no longer an opposition between landlords
and bourgeoisie, but an opposition between
landlords – representative for the private sphere
– and the state bureaucracy (Lazăr 2002, 94-96).
This is way the sociologist Marius Lazăr
concludes that modernization in the Romanian
space was a superficial phenomenon, unable to
create and launch mechanisms for recruiting a
new elite; actually, modernization remained a
way for developing the old aristocracy control of
the state, but certainly not a process founded on
The Romanian Case. The Modernity: an
Imported Exigency?
For the Romanian space, the absence of an
adequate social and economic structure limited
modernization to an institutional process. In fact,
the eradication of some material and institutional
gaps was seen as the bottleneck of the
modernization process. Another cliché of the
Romanian historiography states that ‗the
European integration was the ultimate political
goal of the Romanian political class and so the
modernization. In fact, the main goal of the
Romanian elite was always the power – and not
the westernization. It is the internal competition
for the domination resources the element that,
actually, provoked the European integration
phenomenon. This is the reason why
modernization and westernization were, as a
48
a real social mobility. ‗For the Romanian elite,
political modernization represented the shift
from a domination system based on the
influence networks of some aristocratic families,
to a bureaucratic foundation and institutional
autonomy system. This phenomenon was leaded
[…] by the same aristocratic elite, that rapidly
learned to reconvert and conserve the old
influential status in the new modern sociopolitical matrix‘ (Lazăr 2002, 93).
The same idea is formulated by Daniel
Barbu, too, but with a distinct amendment: the
elites perceived modernization as a power over
the words (Barbu 2001, 264). Revealing the lack
of bourgeoisie values from the Romanian
society (like labor, family, economy, ethic,
authority or scientific spirit), the historian
reached the conclusion that modernization was
missing the western vision of this phenomenon,
that consisted in producing, distributing and
consuming wealth. With no socio-economic
foundation, modernization itself became just a
discursive phenomenon: ‗The modernity was not
perceived as a culture of experience, grounded
on the economy dynamics and social foresight,
but as a culture of discourse in which the present
was set on the History values and obeyed to the
European democratic model irradiance‘(Barbu
2001, 264). The modernization, in fact the
import of some western institutions specific to a
Nation-State, ends up as a way of converting the
power prerogatives, a power easily to exercise
through political discourse mediation. The
politics is not a future projection, instead it
becomes the way of rediscovering Romanian
modernity in the past. This is the reason why in
discursive practice of the Romanian politicians it
is easily to encounter the appeal to the History,
necessary in order to look for and even to invent
those seeds of modernization in the Romanian
space. In this manner, modernization became a
natural stage in the developing of the Romanian
state, certainly not an ideological import that
could affect the background. This history and
politics pendant will end up into a nationalistic
discourse, reinventing the past. Meanwhile, it
was a way to escape the major challenge: how to
install a democratic, modern and liberal regime
into a space with no civic culture, bourgeoisie
values and free will exercise. Modernization in
the Romanian space was unable to assure the
consensus around the idea of state and to
reinforce social solidarities. Without these two
characteristics, the image of the modern
Romanian state was one of a parallel-state to the
society interests, an incapable state to represent
the idea of social justice.
Meritocracy in the Romanian Space – the Old
Exploiters and the New Ones
The 1848 revolution was in fact an elite
revolution, instead of a mass revolution. In the
1848 Romanian society the language of the elite
was so different from that of the peasants to
misunderstanding; a society far away from the
idea of modernity, and through this, from the
principle of meritocracy. The reason found
byŞtefanCazimir to explain the failure of this
revolution was the lack of a transition period,
necessary to blur the differences. Cazimir
interprets the changes occurred in clothing at the
beginning of a fragile, but irreversible
phenomenon. The German fashion or the
French one brought in The Romanian
Principalities by the boyars‘ sons is the sign of a
paradoxical situation, although they intended to
spread an egalitarian state of mind. So, if those
who wanted to promote socially adopted rapidly
the new attire, instead, the traditional boyars
strove not to resemble with the new Dinu
Păturică social typology. But, eventually, an
insidious effect of the fashion was that it obliged
all individuals to obey in front of the changes,
because in 19th century fashion was a
mechanism of dialogue and of social
recognition. Trying not to adapt could became
social reclusion. Although the 1830-1860 period
was represented as a period in which old boyars
with oriental clothes coexisted along with the
young boyars dressed in trousers and frock
coats, we should remark the great deal of
concessions made by the old generation in the
favor of the new one. In fact, it was a roles‘ shift
synthetized with accuracy by VasileAlecsandri:
‗We should be fair and we should respectfully
knee in front of our parents‘ memory. Although
through their way of life our parents seemed to
be part of the 16th century, they had a sublime
merit. They allowed a century of progress and of
regeneration in their country, the 19th century,
brought from abroad by their children‘ (1). When
(1) Apud (Cazimir 2006, 65): ‗Să fim drepţi şi să ne
închinăm cu respect şi recunoştinţă dinaintea
memoriei părinţilor. Ei prin traiul lor păreau a
face parte din seculul XVI, dar au avut meritul
sublim de a introduce în patria lor un secul de
progres şi de regenerare, seculul XIX, adus din
străinătate prin copiii lor‘). This transition period
analyzed by Cazimir reflects the changes occured
in language, too. It is a situation described in a
very plastic manner by the author: ‗A lot of old
things are still existing, but their fate is already
doomed. The new things are already existing, but
haven‘t triumphed yet‘ (‗Multe lucruri vechi mai
49
the old boyars realized that the new clothing
meant more than a simple fashion, it was already
too late. In fact, the fashion was not just a simple
fad; it meant new social models and aspirations.
And, although the 1848 revolution was a failure,
in less than 15 years the Romanian Principalities
were involved in an institutional, political and
social modernization phenomenon. The clothing
homogenization wiped out the ranks. Instead, it
consecrated
equal
chances,
as
an
essentialprerequisite for the idea of meritocracy.
However, this mechanism of social
promotion – meritocracy – can be glimpsed
since 18th century, the period of the Greekreigns
(fanarioţi), when it was imposed the common
law of according princes by the ruler. But,
because these princes were offered especially to
the foreigners, perverting the idea of aristocracy,
the reaction of the local boyars had a
xenophobic side. In this respect, illustrative are
Constituţia cărvunarilo rwritten by Ionică Tăutu
or Cererile norodului românesc formulated by
Tudor Vladimirescu. Although still considered
as the first signs of the Romanian society
liberalization, in fact is the xenophobic reaction
of the local boyars replaced from the state
functions by the foreigners. The goal of
returning to the Romanian reigns is, in fact, the
intention of the local boyars to monopolize the
administrative apparatus. For the Romanian
boyars administrative function was not a
political duty, but a devotion relationship with
the reign. Although it may seem as a reform, the
fight of the local aristocracy meant the return to
a state design considered to be equitable. The
Organic Rules tried to find an answer to this
problem, recognizing the nobility titles to those
capable to prove this with documents. Still, an
innovation is implemented: the consecration of
the meritocratic principle in achieving nobility
titles that could be conferred especially by the
Reign (Lazăr 2002, 101).
Meritocracy is closely linked to the idea of
individual freedom. But, despite the 1848th
revolutionary program included social goals,
these were subsidiary to the national objectives.
What was really important for the revolutionary
leaders remained the emancipation of the
Romanian space. Through this, the 1848th
liberalism divided society into a liberator elite
and an obedient community. It is a model
inspired by Jules Michelet theory, according to
which the world was made of immutable entities
seeking freedom: the nations. In this respect, the
evolution of a nation is addicted to the
affirmation of a national genius and to a
historical fate. The youngster revolutionary
leaders tried to apply this vision to the
Romanian society, but ‗considered that the
freedom was for the people as a communitarian
entity, and not as a collection of independent
individuals‘ (Matei 2004, 62). Because of the
foreign domination, primordially was to gain the
freedom for the entire nation, while later the
modernization efforts should be focused on the
implementation of the individual liberty. ‗The
nation liberty subordinated individual liberty‘
(Matei 2004, 63), a vision that would destroy
any trace of respect for the individual liberty,
but instead it would develop a collectivistic
syndrome of adulating the national virtues.
Was meritocracy only a way for the old
aristocracy to legitimate its continuity in the
field of power? The Mihai Sorin Rădulescu
prosopographic
analysis
regarding
the
antebellum liberal elite highlights the boyar
origin of the most important leaders of this first
political party from modern Romania
(Rădulescu 1998, 145). For instance, the ten
liberal prime-ministers during 1866-1900 were,
with two exception (P. S. Aurelian from
Transylvania and Dimitrie Sturdza from
Moldavia), descendants of Wallachia boyar
families: Brătianu, Ghica, Kreţulescu and
Golescu. In fact, no member of the liberal elite
was a descendant of the bourgeoisie (Rădulescu
1998, 42, 147). In contrast, the great
conservative political leaders came from
Moldavia, but their social origin was an
aristocratic one, too. Due to the distinctive
geographical separation of the two political
groups the programmatic differences will occur.
These differences will be visible during the
1848th revolution, when we can distinguish the
roots of the dilemma regarding the role of
meritocracy with long term effects in defining
the modern Romanian elite. For instance, if the
ideas of meritocracy in Walachia were positively
perceived, in Moldavia it was obvious a sort of
call for tradition; it was about Moldavians‘
desire to return to tradition, in order to regain the
natural rights of the privileged status, unfairly
lost. More than this, the Moldavian boyars
didn‘t accept the idea of ceasing the role of
primus inter pares to the Walachia landlords in
the projected future Romania. This is the way
we can justify why so many Moldavian boyars
were part of antiunion current in 1859
(Rădulescu 1998, 147).
stăruie încă, dar soarta lor e deja pecetluită. Cele
noi şi-au făcut deja apariţia, dar nu au triumfat
încă) (Cazimir 2006, 10).
50
As it concerns Transylvania, the idea of
revolution itself will be monopolized by the
fight for national emancipation, a characteristic
that would transform this movement in the sole
counter-revolution in 1848. Fighting against the
Hungarian revolution led by Lajos Kossuth, the
Transylvanian leaders‘ goals would end up in an
indirect favor to the Austrian monarchy. Despite
its amplitude, the Transylvanian revolution of
the Romanians remains a clear proof of the
inextricable linkage between the idea of
modernity and national ideology. This is the
reason why the idea of meritocracy will remain
absorbed by the national emancipation goals.
Along with these regional different
approaches regarding meritocracy, it should be
stated that no debate was developed either. But,
the idea of meritocracy can be detected in the
debates concerning the political ways that must
be followed and, especially, in the debates about
the limits of the Romanian citizenship concept.
Still, meritocracy was supposed to assure the
mechanism for a new social typology: the
intellectual, who has to embrace the ascending
aspirations built only through personal merits in
a democratic society.
pattern of thought that will inspire Vladimir Ilici
Lenin later.
The Romanian space suggestively
resembles with the Russian Imperium. For
example, the young 1848th elite focused on the
improvement of the peasantry status. More than
this, the so-called bonjour youth (because of
their French style in speaking and dressing)
developed a sort of peasant spirit archeology, a
spirit considered to comport the ingénues idea of
Romanianity.
Ion
Heliade-Rădulescu,
MihailKogălniceanu with his Literary Dacia,
Alecu Russo and his project of recovering the
Romanian folklore – are just a few examples to
reinforce the above stated ideas. The folklore
would become the romantic heroic vision of the
national bildungsroman. Through the mediation
of history and folklore the building of the
Romanian-peasant image began. In fact, the
peasant was entitled with the ‗status of national
eponymous ancestor, on the condition to remain
silent‘ (Karnoouh 1994, 115).
We could state that in the Romanian space
we do not witness the birth of the intellectuals
either, but rather the intelligentsia’sgenesis. In
the limits of an autocratic system – as it was the
reign of MihailSturdza in Moldova during 18341849 – the reforming local boyar cluster, also
known as the ‗national party‘, seemed to be a
counterpart in front of the abusive power of the
ruler. If we also take into consideration the
foreign
influence
in
organizing
the
Principalities, we can clearly make a difference
between the political sphere and the possibilities
of the new elite with European orientation. But
this is rather a false perception. The political
changes that could emphasize this point of view
are the political union between Moldavia and
Walachia (1859) and the instauration of a
foreign monarchy in ruling the modern
Romania. So, these events consecrated the
conquering of the political sphere by the new
elite, the 1848th generation. From this moment,
the vision regarding the Romanian ways of
modernization were no longer coherent, the
cultural elites launching a well-known debate –
the opportunity of westernization, perceived as a
historic regularity (the modernist current) or as a
dissolution of the nation (the traditionalistic
approach). Because of these, the cultural elite
will form groups of prestige, denomination
developed by Sorin Adam Matei from Max
Weber‘s concept of status groups.
In conclusion, this new cultural elite
succeeded peacefully in imposing on the
political scene. And this is why we can quit the
denomination of intelligentsia. The 1848th elite
Romanian Cultural Elite: scholars,
intellectuals, intelligentsia or revolutionaries?
The failure of the 1848th revolutionary
project meant a redefining process of the
scholars‘ role in the building of the modern
Romania. The cultural and political sides proved
to be inseparable in order to accomplish the
national desiderates. At a first glance, here we
can detect the differences between the French
intellectual model and the Romanian case of
intelligentsia.
The concept of intelligentsia is used
especially to describe those intellectuals from
the Russian space who opposed the autocratic
monarchy of the Tsar. Practically, intelligentsia
tried to develop a political alternative that,
because of the lack of dialogue, would end up
into an anti-monarchic current liable to
destabilize the Russian society. Narodnicism
represented an ideological association between
intellectuals and peasantry in this fight.
Secondly, these political methods will give birth
to a terrorist current, materialized in attacks
against the Tsar, like the December‘s movement
(1825) and the assassination of Alexander the
2nd in March 1881 by the anarchists. The lack of
political dialogue will have as a result the birth
of some revolutionary ideologies, the most
suggestive being the work of Nikolai
Cernashevski, What Is to Be Done? (1863),
51
ruled the Romanian state in a modernization
process, after a first stage characterized by
revolutionary movements. But, because of the
political appetence and the aristocratic roots of
many of these young cultural elite, we can
hardly speak about intellectual elite. The
intellectual characterizes himself through
political independence. It is not the case in
modern Romania, where politics were created
by these ex-revolutionary leaders. Still, they
developed political and cultural currents
regarding the destiny of the Romanian nation:
the conservatism and the liberalism.
Constant, Fred, Le multiculturalisme [The Multiculturalism],
Paris, Dominos Flammarion,
2000.
Karnoouh, Karnoouh, Claude, Românii:
tipologie şi mentalităţi [The
1994
Romanians: typologies and mentalities], Bucureşti Humanitas,
1994.
Lazăr, Marius, Paradoxuri ale
Lazăr,
modernităţii (elemente pentru o
2002
sociologie a elitelor culturale
româneşti) [The modernity paradoxes], Cluj, Limes, 2002.
Matei, 2004 Matei, Sorin Adam, Boierii minţii
(intelectualii
români
între
grupurile de prestigiu şi piaţa
liberă a ideilor) [The Mind
Boyars], Bucureşti, Compania,
2004.
Rădulescu, Rădulescu, Mihai Sorin, Elita
liberală românească 1866-1900
1998
[The Romanian Liberal Elite],
Bucureşti, All, 1998.
Scott, 2001 Scott, John, ―Elitele în sociologia
anglo-saxonă‖ [The Concept of
Elite in the Anglo-Saxon Sociology], in Ezra Suleiman, Henri
Mendras
(eds.),
Recrutarea
elitelor
în
Europa
[The
Recruitment of Elites in Europe],
Timişoara, Amarcord, 2001.
Scott ed., Scott, John (ed.), Fifty Key
Sociologists: The Formative
2007
Theorists, London-New York,
Routledge, 2007.
Constant,
2000
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Burke,
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Cazimir,
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Charle,
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Barbu, Daniel, Bizanţ contra
Bizanţ
[Byzantium
against
Byzantium], Bucureşti, Editura
Nemira, 2001.
Burke, Peter, Istorie şi teorie
socială [History and Social
Theory], Bucureşti, Humanitas,
1999.
Cazimir, Ştefan, Alfabetul de
tranziţie
[The
Transition
Alphabet], Bucureşti, Humanitas,
2006.
Charle, Christophe, Les Elites de
la République (1880-1900) [The
Republic Elites], Paris, Fayard,
1987.
Charle, Christophe, Naissance
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Birth of Intellectuals], Paris, Les
Editions de Minuit, 1990.
Coenen-Huther,
Jacques,
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[The
Sociology of Elites], Iaşi, Polirom
2007.
52
Stranger’s Hypostases in the Transylvanian Romanian Imaginary of
the 19th Century
Elena Andreea TRIF-BOIA
PhD, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University from Cluj-Napoca
E-mail: boia_andreea@yahoo.com
Abstract. The present study investigates the stranger‘s picture in the Transylvanian Romanians‘
mindset in a period when the society was engaged in a full scale process of modernization and building of
its national identity. This time interval corresponds to the time when Romanians were involved in the
movement of political emancipation in order to obtain rights and freedoms kindred to those that possessed
their cohabiting neighbors and when the Romanians have forged their own cultural model based on
principles and values that were entrenched in Europe during the Enlightenment. From the methodological
point of view, the study, based mainly on press materials, brochures and textbooks of that age passes
beyond a mere string of Transylvanians‘ clichés and stereotypes about foreigners and tries to analyze their
functionality.
Key words: the other, ethnic representation, Transylvania Romanian culture, nineteenth century
Introduction (1)
of the human races, in order to justify the
African
slave
labor.
However,
the
representatives of the abolitionist movement, as
some romantic intellectuals, have forged a
positive portrait of the Africans, depicting them
either as human beings who deserve enjoying
the benefits of freedom, either in the posture of
‗good savages‘, bearers of natural virtues,
untouched by the corruption of modern lifestyle,
or in that of ‗good blacks‘ who would be the
embodiment of devotion and self-sacrifice.
Finally, feminist movements, by their tendency
to put on an equal footing both sexes, have given
rise to heated debates that placed women either
in the position of domesticated creatures,
responsible for the care of the household and
children, and therefore in an intellectually lower
position than men, either in that of human beings
that equaled the latter and were able to study and
become economically independent.
Romanians in Transylvania too enrolled in
these trends that have guided the European
public. Especially since it is known that their
main inspiration was made up by European
writings, be it periodicals, or volumes on their
own. Nonetheless, the foreigner‘s picture has
experienced its own development also, provided
that Transylvanian Romanians‘ political
conditions, their own system of values and
cultural peculiarities have had a major role in
assuming and interpreting all these general
imaginary projections.
The image of the other wasn‘t imposed as
a field of study until the last century, although
distinctness on certain criteria – sociological,
gender, ethnic, geographic, religious, political,
ideological, and later national, racial etc. – has
been one constant throughout the history of
human pursuits (Grancea 2009, 55). Ethnically,
the Foreigner could not stir anything but
antagonistic reactions whether he was perceived
as an individual within the community, or seen
as belonging to a different culture, sometimes
exotic. Despised or admired, inspiring fear or
confidence, seen as likable or, on the contrary,
offensive, he always proved to be a ‗violation‘
of community‘s norms and values, since his
characterization was passed through fantasy‘s
inevitably subjective filter (Boia 2000, 117-132;
Boia 2001, 301-305; Boia 2005, 51-68). The
nineteenth century was worthily called as the
century of otherness‘ rising. First, nationalism
has spawned a true race for devising its own
national identity, in that each people sought to
define its specificity by relation towards those
who were different, towards foreigners who had
other customs, traditions, beliefs etc. than their
own. It was followed afterwards by racism, an
approach that went a little further and invoked
an alleged biological and intellectual inequality
(1) Sections of this article have been published in the
work entitled Imaginea Celuilalt în cultura
românească din Transilvania. Secolul al XIX-lea
(Cluj-Napoca: PUC, 2012).
53
The Other’s Image as Self-Image
The analysis of other‘s image in
nineteenth century Transylvanian Romanian
culture must therefore be understood as an
investigation that focuses on the Transylvanian
Romanians of that time, whereas the clichés and
stereotypes that were attributed to outer or
cohabiting people, must be understood as a
testimony of their own fears, of the thrill and
sensitivities and beliefs that marked their lives
(See Oişteanu 2003). The more so as the
analysis‘ time period corresponds to their
coagulation around the modern concept of
nation, whereas Enlightenment principles that
sparked in the previous century also proved
highly effective tools in their struggle for
emancipation (See Mitu 1995). Therewith, it is
the period when Transylvanian Romanians with
the help of intellectuals, the majority of whom
had been educated in prestigious European
cultural centers, self-impose a civilization
model, a framework worthy of being reproduced
or imitated. A template founded on supreme
Enlightenment principles, such as freedom,
equality and justice, faith in progress and
modernization, as in the universal values of
Christianity, template that matched the Western
or Western European type of civilization.
Obviously it was not chosen by chance.
Awareness of the common origin shared with
Latin people of the West had a decisive role in
this choice, practically making them feel much
closer to them. We just have to remember the
symbolic weight of the voyages taken to the
Eternal City that were usually perceived as a
return to the origins (Grancea 2009, 108-117)
and accompanied by meaningful gestures,
including deposing offerings at the memorial of
the Roman victory over the Dacians (1). Or the
Italians‘ scale examination, some travelers going
so far as to establish similarities between their
traditional costumes and the Romanians‘, all
comparisons invoked to support the same idea of
brotherhood (Familia 5/1866, 55). At the same
time, only the implementation of the West‘s
advanced ideas gave Transylvanians hope in
improving their own destiny, while they likened
the unlimited power of some Eastern leaders to
the policy of the Transylvanian AustroHungarian authorities. Therefore we may say
without reservations that Romanians, as a young
nation, found in the West not only a territory of
almost sacred meanings, but also a solution to
their internal problems. France, for instance,
revealed itself as an emblem of humanitarian
spirit, as a country that declared war to the
system of privileges, citing the natural rights of
the individual, which held that every person is
born free and equal in his or her inalienable
rights with other individuals, while the young
nation that was born in North America, through
its courage, confidence and spirit of sacrifice,
proved to them the strength and authenticity of
these principles (Familia 39/1877, 457; Rus
2011, 202-210; Márki 1899, 91-92; Boia 2010,
319-357). Over all those mentioned above
overlapped also the awareness of the more
pragmatic aspects of the West, the economic
boost, the advancements and new achievements
in technology, arts, science, and especially their
effects on the common man, their improving
comfort and material wealth, issues that were
throughout the century the leitmotif of printed
periodicals in the province.
Porturi din Sicilia [Ports from Sicily],
Familia, 1866
Once accepted, this prototype had the
value of a ‗supreme law‘ of the collective
imaginary, being unmistakably invoked almost
every time when the question of otherness was
raised. The Other was, therefore, examined from
all angles, the prominent criteria being cultural,
followed by the politico-ideological and
religious one. The verdict, clearly expressed
without leaving room for speculation or
interpretation has been consistently reiterated:
despotism cannot have other effect than
depriving people of culture‘s and civilization‘s
benefits, whereas people in the bosom of whom
despotism has taken root, the Oriental and
African ones, by the economic, political and
cultural standstill and backwardness that they
exhibited, were the most frequently cited
examples. The Chinese, the Turks, the Arabs,
(1) We refer here to Badea Cârţan who, coming to
Rome, would be deposited at the base of Trajan's
Column a bag containing wheat and soil from
Transylvania (See Dinu 1979, 150).
54
the Afghans, the Moroccans, and most people of
Central and South Africa etc. were harshly
penalized for hindering freedom (Boiu 1972, 6;
Familia 43/1973, 496; Familia 28/1886, 336;
Felezeu 2012, 57-58) and, hence, the pervasion
of culture among their people. All the same, they
were more lenient with the Japanese or the
Persians, the former being praised for the
reforms that have led to the modernization of
Japan with the Meiji era, while the Persians were
instead admired for the openness under which
they manifested towards arts and science,
openness that brought them over time the
nickname ‗the French of the East‘ (Marki 1899,
127; Diaconovici 1904, 567).
condition. Thus, they got to quickly identify
themselves with the cause of such people and
even to harshly criticize the Austro-Hungarian
officials‘ policies by comparison, disseminating
written examples about concrete situations of
persecution that occurred in other cultural spaces
— such situations were frequent precisely
during
periods
when
Austro-Hungarian
censorship limited their right to free expression.
Of course, except the above mentioned cases,
namely, that of the African-Americans and that
of the ‗red skins‘, the interest for the Irish cause
that aroused in the first years of the Romanian
newspapers (Mitu 2000, 123-165; Amicul
Familiei 14/1882, 156; Familia 97/1880, 606;
Organul Luminării LIII/1848, 299; Goldiş
1897/III, 248; Unirea 1/1891, 4) and the
unconditional admiration that they showed for
the liberation movements of the Balkans‘ people
might be mentioned too. The attitude that Great
Britain displayed towards its own subjects stood
alongside the Ottoman Empire, which is why
British abolitionists were heckled by
intellectuals like George Bariţ precisely for their
refusal to improve economic and political
conditions for their ‗servants‘ at home (Mitu
2000, 141).
Cafenea arabă la expoziţia din Paris
[Arabic Cafe. Exhibition in Paris],
Familia, 1889.
Even more interesting is the equity that
Transylvanians strove to display in addressing
information, and their refusal to deviate from the
principles that they took as standard. Thus their
supreme reverence for people like the North
Americans, individuals who have repudiated the
old system based on privileges and who founded
the first modern state in human history, one
deeply marked by progress, didn‘t push them to
be biased and to overlook the violations to their
own rules which they elevated as universal
values, deviation overtly demonstrated by the
black African slavery practices or by the
measures that had the effect of extermination of
the Native Americans (Boia 2009, 119-150; 164170). Besides, almost any population that
suffered persecution and was wrongfully
deprived of rights was viewed with sympathy,
just because it appealed to Romanians as a true
and regrettable mirror image of their own
Muntenegreni [Montenegrins], Albina
Carpaților‘, 1877
The contact history with neighbors or coexisting people also had an important role in the
formation of imaginary projections. The most
striking example is that of the Turks, described
as downright demonic beings, true ‗dark
knights‘, directly responsible for all the
shortcomings of the Romanian people (Goldiş
1897/III, 58; Diaconovici 1900, 911) by the
obstacles that they raised against its natural
development path. Another example is that of
the Turks‘ ‗relatives‘ in Europe, the Hungarians.
The fact that what really were considered
decisive for the former were no specific aspects
of religious beliefs is demonstrated by their mere
55
association with people with a similar status.
Arabs, for example, also followers of Islam,
although portrayed as fanatical, cruel and
vindictive, have a portrait that is completed by
references that come to praise their love of
freedom, their passionate and serious character
and their generosity. Likewise the same
laudatory tone is also kept in materials that
display their data on scientific and cultural
history, focusing their accents on contributions
of the arts (Familia 43/1873, 496). Meanwhile,
the Moroccans or the Afghans were blamed,
especially, for refusing enlightenment and
endorsing the patriarchal life (Familia 92/1878,
586; Familia 21/1879, 142). It is obvious that
fear and terror caused by the Turks in the Middle
Ages couldn‘t be entirely forgotten, more so as
in the nineteenth century too they continued to
have great influence on the Romanian territories.
These emotions rather turned into repulsion, into
a general attitude of rejection. The situation
went so far that Romanian rulers‘ portraits that
were victorious in battles with the Turks
achieved downright legendary proportions —
Paul the Knyaz, ‗Hercules of his time‘(Boiu
1872, 94) — and the hospitality that the Turks
had been showing to strangers was to be
cataloged as a result of a sense of obligation, and
not as a genuine, naturally developed feature
(Familia 43/1873, 496).
Neither Russians were granted forgiveness
for their behavior concerning Bessarabia, and
their betrayal during the Russo-Turkish War
(1877-1878) was interpreted as evidence of
greed, lack of honor and respect for the given
word (Familia 26/1878, 156). And the case of
the Hungarian authorities is more than telling, as
aversion towards everything that could be
labeled with the word ‗master‘ had taken
uncontrollable proportions. A thing that should
have appeared absolutely normal within a
community whose intellectuals elevated the
most revolutionary ideas of the time to absolute
models and constantly denounced the abuses of
the Old Regime, citing very often examples of
people who have made sacrifices to overcome it.
It‘s enough to remember the phrase used by a
contemporary journalist to describe the situation
of Hungary in 1897, ‗A State divided in two:
cruel rulers and tormented thralls‘ (Tribuna
Poporului 7/1897, 29) – such descriptions
constantly occupied the pages of Transylvanian
publications, and were complemented with
specific references to abuses committed against
ethnic Romanians: unjustified arrests, kangaroo
trials, ‗bloodshed, often without reason‘
(Tribuna Poporului 7/1897, 31), searches and
seizures, daily violations of the right to assembly
and association, constantly generating insecurity
and terror, etc. (1).
The issue concerning the Jews and the
Gypsies was rather peculiar as history has not
recorded between the three ethnic groups neither
moments of close cooperation, neither intervals
marked by strong conflicts of interest. Thus the
‗danger‘ theme that the former represented and
all the negative elements that accompanied this
theme were nothing more but facets of a general
European picture that has been transmitted here
through written text. Of course, amid the
hysteria generated by nationalism, they were
taken up and amplified by some intellectuals
(Slavici 2000; Popovici 2008, 379-380) and
even associated with those of other ‗evil forces‘
that ‗threatened‘ the good of the nation, namely
the Hungarians. But we may not speak, in
general, about an attitude born within the
Romanian community, especially since they,
including graduates of theological seminaries,
spoke positively about the Jews, praising them
for the gift of being God's chosen people.
Zacharia Boiu, for instance, showed that of all
the ancient people contemporary to the Jews
only they worshiped one God, honoring him ‗in
a very similar way our Christian religion does‘
(Boiu 1872, 17). Gypsies, instead, have been
reproved almost exclusively based on ‗their
cultural inferiority‘, their disinterest in
education, as well as for their lack of courage in
(1) From a longer list of such claims, remember the
following news articles: ‗Selbaticii, Arad, 18
February‘, Idem, 25 (7/19 February 1898), 123.
‗
Vandalisme ungureşti‘, Idem, 88 (10/22 May
1898), 431. ‗În unguri gendarmii nu puşcă‘, Idem,
115 (18/30 June 1898), 563. ‗Puncte de orientare‘,
Idem, 17 (28 January/9 February 1897), 77. ‗E
rândul ţăranilor noştri. Un proces monstru‘, Idem,
37 (25 February/ 9 March 1897), 174. Idem, 39
(27 February/11 March 1897), 182. ‗Falsi şi
mincinoşi‘, Idem, 42 (4/16 March 1897), 197.
‗
Fanatism unguresc la Cluj‘, Dreptatea, 95 (28
April/10 May 1894), 3. ‗Procesul lui Lucaciu‘,
Idem, 198 (11/23 September 1894), 1. ‗68 de
învăţători nemaghiari din comitatul Timişului
suspendaţi‘, Idem, 4 (6/18 January 1894), 4.
‗
Adevăraţii agitatori‘, Tribuna Poporului, 44 (6/18
March 1897). ‗Procese noue. Procesul părintelui
Lucaciu‘, Familia, 38 (18/30 September 1894),
455. ‗Procese de presă‘, Idem, 40 (2/14 October
1894), 479. Idem, 41 (9/21 October 1894), 491.
‗
Procese noue‘, Idem, 43 (23 October/4 November
1894), 516. ‗Infamia şovinismului‘, Tribuna
Poporului, 46 (21 March 1897), 217-218.
‗
Cavalerism maghiar‘, Dreptatea, 98 (4/16 May
1894), 5.
56
persisting on the issue of the United States‘
political system, on that of the morality of its
inhabitants, as on that of their kind of relation to
culture. We may refer, then, to the example of
Latin America, mainly known thanks to the
great powers‘ interventions on its soil, the
instauration and dethronement of the Emperor
Maximilian of Habsburg in Mexico, Cuba‘s war
of independence, the Spanish-American War etc.
Finally, we may also evoke the example
concerning the Greeks in the case of whom the
echo of the Romanian intellectuals‘ discourses
from beyond the Carpathians – N. Bălcescu, M.
Eminescu, D. Drăghicescu (Boia 2001, 310) –
consists in a more than obvious manner either in
a reproach on the fiscal measures taken during
the Phanariotes reigns in the extra-Carpathian
territories, either on the undesirable effects of
these measures upon the inhabitants, reproaches
that can be found in almost all types of
publications. In fact a correlation may be
observed between the Transylvanians‘ discourse
about the foreigners on one side, and their other
provinces brethren‘s discourse, on the other,
while the ‗enemies‘ or, conversely, the ‗friends‘
of the latter were taking credit at large of a
similar status in the mindset of the former.
defending their cause (Diaconovici 1904, 10951096; Reteganul 1896; Familia 1/1886, 12).
They embodied the very opposite of what was
required from a people in the era of nationalism
and progress, because instead of showing
concerns in order to display greatness and
uniqueness, they contented with a living that
Transylvanians catalogued as ‗bohemian‘ or
even ‗promiscuous‘. Notable in this regard are
the words of Ioan Pop Reteganul in the brochure
dedicated to their history, Gypsies (Blaj, 1886),
‗Gypsies have had no ideas, no dogma, no
customs, no history, no tradition, no country, not
even their own superstitions, since even those
special superstitions of other nations that they so
easily seized and acquired, they just as easy
rejected them. They have no national costumes,
no baptism or some special mark. Between
Tartars they dress like Tartars, between
Hungarians, like Hungarians, and everywhere
they dress with what other people are dumping
at them... Their dictionary... has no verbs for
concepts like ‗to have‘, ‗to own‘ neither for ‗to
must‘ or ‗debt‘ and ‗law‘. They're like air plants‘
(See Reteganul 1886).
There are very numerous cases where
imaginary projections on foreigners have been
disseminated in Transylvania as ready-made
stories translated from the sources of
information available during that period –
Hungarian, German, Romanian, French, English
periodicals and so on, books purchased from
Romania or the European states – and whose
interpretation was either totally blocked by the
fact that they simply didn‘t have the additional
knowledge needed to combat or defend them,
either limited because they had a complete trust
in the authenticity and authority of the used
sources. It is the case mainly for remote, exotic
populations, foreign to the Transylvanian
horizon and for whose ‗discovery‘ the resort to
intermediaries was needed; but also the cases of
some pretty familiar ethnic groups, neighbors or
even close inhabitants. The resulting image in
this case is, in general, quite brief and heavily
influenced by the cited source text, the discourse
of the colonizer or of the European explorer,
when referring to Africa or to Asia, and by the
intellectual discourse and that of the aristocracy
of the Old Continent, if we consider North
America.
The first, was focusing on the habits of the
conquered people, in general, on the elements of
novelty and even strangeness designed to fill the
gaps present in areas such as geography,
ethnography, history, biology and so on, in cases
of discovery expeditions. The second was
Gipsy from Banat, Familia, 1892
Alongside this general portrait dictated by
the nature of contacts with the other, but
alongside the specificity of Transylvanian
Romanian customs and traditions too, a few
particular representations have been outlined in
such that it has been assigned to each people or
nation a number of defects and/or virtues. Thus,
57
the British impressed Romanians by their
pragmatism and ingenuity, the French by wit,
cheerfulness and good taste, the Germans by
sobriety and high scientific and cultural
development, the Russians by their good humor
and a seemingly pious spirit, the Italians by their
fiery character, their cheerfulness and hospitality
that welcomes those who have passed their
threshold,
the
Spaniards
by
courage,
perseverance and love of their country, the
Swiss by their patriotism and respect for liberty,
equality and fraternity, the Americans by
entrepreneurship, eccentricity and exacerbated
materialism, the Dutch by diligence and
perseverance, the residents of the Scandinavian
countries by their high levels of literacy, the
Balkan people by their courage and sacrifice
spirit, the Hungarians through their pride and
chauvinism, the Chinese by traditionalism and
exacerbated nationalism, the Japanese by their
openness toward culture, the Indians by their
wisdom and ability to contemplate the
fundamental essence of things, the Turks by
their fanaticism, violence and sensualism, the
Arabs by their love of freedom, courage,
hospitality and so on (See Trif-Boia 2012).
Articles of an extreme racy taste are also those
that emphasize the subjective perceptions that
nations mutually address to each other, on the
one hand, from the desire to show themselves
off in front of the other, to assert their own
primacy, and hence, sometimes harsh neighbors‘
reactions occur against it, and on the other hand,
depending on the nature of the existing
relationships, stemming from the interests that
they have in common. In an article suggestively
entitled How people judge each other George
Coşbuc, for example, was expressing his
confidence that every nation is endowed with an
attitude of superiority against its neighbors, an
attitude that can be noticed by the mutual mood
of seeking their ‗flaws‘ or of ‗mocking‘ each
other. In this sense, bringing into question the
graphic representations of some nations in
European humorous magazines, most of them
sanctioned for their vices: the English appeared
as a ‗dog, bulldog, with teeth grinning and ready
to bite‘, the Russians were represented by a
‗bear‘ standing on his rear feet ‗in a paw with a
knout and with a flask of vodka in the other‘,
while the French were assimilated to a ‗cock —
usually climbed on a bunch of litter — proud
and pugnacious and gazing the chickens all the
time‘ (Familia 21/1900, 242). In order to situate
the Romanians in relation to others and
especially their poor relations with their
neighbors, the author has inserted a few words
of wisdom passed down over many generations:
‗The Russian‘s a bear,/ the Turk‘s a wolf/ the
Polack‘s a fox,/ But the poor Moldavian/ Is
either sheep/ either cow‘ (Ibidem) shaped, on the
one hand, the portraits of the Turks and the
Russians as enemies, and on the other, the
portrait of the Romanian Moldavian as a victim
of the hostile deeds and of the gain lust of his
neighbors. A symbolic meaning also had
expressions such as ‗If you give Ivan excuse,
you‘d be sure he will abuse‘, ‗Slyly walk with
the cross hanged on the chest like the Russian‘,
‗Like master, like man‘, ‗The Turk beats you,
the Turk judges you‘. — The first two, alluded
to an alleged greed, insolence and hypocrisy of
the Russians, while the last illustrated the
unfairness of Turkish relations with Romanians.
Finally, Coşbuc didn‘t miss his witticism on
people such as the Germans, the Serbs, the Jews
and the Gypsies and as a rule he always signaled
the least flattering. The fairness of the first was
expressed by maxims such as ‗Just, like the
German‘ or ‗You don‘t see a German to steal his
pipe‘ while statements like ‗The German puts
his hand and God takes His mercy‘ came to
establish a balance between virtues and vices.
The quips regarding the Serbians highlighted
their lack of wisdom, those aimed at the Jews
spoke about their loud character as well as about
their inclination to scam other people,
meanwhile the Gypsies were generally
associated with a common propensity for theft as
well as with a lack of firmness – ‗A green horse
and a mindful Serbian‘, ‗Jewish Larva‘ ‗The Jew
only eats after he cheats‘ or ‗To have an honest
feel, the Gypsy has to steal‘ and ‗Sturdy as a
chicken‘(Ibidem).
Femeie din Orient [Woman from the East],
Familia, 1892
58
A final issue that we‘d wish to take into
consideration is that of the woman. In her case
the image is polarized, as the Transylvanian
observers‘ assessments drew connections
between her status, on the one hand, and the
political and cultural development of the people
whom she belonged, on the other. Therefore we
may observe the Oriental women‘s portrayal,
that of the women from Eastern Europe and the
Balkans being depicted as inferior beings,
subjected to men, and only concerned with the
household and its proper functioning. In parallel,
however, also took shape the image of
‗westerners‘, educated women who were about
to gain their economic and political
independence. We recall, in this regard, the tens
even hundreds of articles who described either
the actions of the feminist movement, either the
successes obtained by women in various
activities (Familia 4/1887, 44; Foaia Poporului
4/1898, 41; Familia 14/1903, 161; Albina
Carpaţilor 21/1879, 335; Bunul Econom 1/1900,
9; Familia 27/1870, 324; Familia 56/1871, 368;
Amicul Familiei 3/1888, 47; Familia 24/1866,
282). Beyond such considerations, the portrait of
the fair sex, as well as that of men, takes some of
the most diverse shapes, such as the analysis that
targets the beauty of their physical traits, their
clothing and accessories are completed by
studies focused on their temperament and
particular habits, contributing in this way to the
shape of a very diverse picture. It is a portrait of
beings whose striking otherness sparks not only
curiosity, but also observers‘ fear, admiration or,
on the contrary, their rejection. The latter
especially occurred in the case of individuals
scared by the momentum of the feminist
movement and of its impact on the traditional
family.
Boia
2009
Dinu
1979
Felezeu
2012
Grancea
2009
Oişteanu
2003
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516.
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39/1897
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Familia
(4/16 March 1897), p. 197.
42/1897
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Familia
Idem, 25 (7/19 February 1898),
25/1898
p. 123.
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în
Muntenegru‘,
Familia
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24/1899
p. 283.
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popoarele‘, Familia, 21 (21
21/1900
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Foaia Poporului, 4 (18/30
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Poporului
4/1898
‗Starea de acum a Irlandiei‘,
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Organul Luminării, LIII (3
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January 1848), p. 299.
LIII/1848
‗68 de învăţători nemaghiari din
Tribuna
comitatul Timişului suspendaţi‘,
Poporului
Idem, 4 (6/18 January 1894), p.
4/1894
4.
‗Stăpânirea‘,
Tribuna
Tribuna
Poporului, 7 (14/26 January
Poporului
1897), p. 29.
7/1897
‗E rândul ţăranilor noştri. Un
Tribuna
proces
monstru‘,
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Poporului
Poporului, 37 (25 February/ 9
37/1897
March 1897), p. 174.
‗Adevăraţii agitatori‘, Tribuna
Tribuna
Poporului, 44 (6/18 March
Poporului
1897).
44/1897
‗Infamia şovinismului‘, Tribuna
Tribuna
Poporului, 46 (9/21 March
Poporului
1897), p. 217-218.
46/1897
Newspapers articles:
‗Femeia
albaneză‘,
Albina
Albina
Carpaţilor,
21
(15
August
Carpaţilor
1879), p. 335.
1879
‗Rescoala din Irlanda‘, Amicul
Amicul
Familiei, 4 (15/27 July 1882), p.
Familiei
156.
1882
‗Dame pe terenu comercialu şi
Amicul
industialu‘, Amicul Familiei, 3
Familiei
(1 February 1888), p. 47.
3/1888
‗Femeile în slujbe în Franţa‘,
Bunul
Bunul Econom, 1 (25 December
Econom
1899/ 6 January 1900), p. 9.
1/1899
‗Cavalerism
maghiar‘,
Dreptatea
Dreptatea,
98
(4/16
May
1894),
98/1894
p. 5.
‗Fanatism unguresc la Cluj‘,
Dreptatea
Dreptatea, 95 (28 April/10 May
95/1894
1894), 3.
‗Porturi din Sicilia‘, Familia, 5
Familia
(15/27 February 1866), p. 55.
5/1866
‗Cluburile femeilor în Londra‘,
Familia
Idem, 24 (7/19 August 1866), p.
24/1866
282.
Russu, Ioan ‗Scrisoare din
Familia
Constantinopol‘, Familia, 28
28/1866
(13/26 July 1886).
‗Femeile inveţiate ale Italiei‘,
Familia
Idem, 27 (5/17 July 1870), p.
27/1870
324.
‗Femei geniale‘, Familia, 56
Familia
(30 July/11 August 1871), p.
56/1871
368.
‗Moravurile ospitaliere ale
Familia
Orientului‘, Familia, 43 (23
43/1873
December 1873), p. 496.
Petru V. Grigoriu, ‗La Francia.
Familia
Omagiu Drei Ioanna născută
39/1877
Comtessa de Latenay‘, Familia,
39 (25 September/1 October
1877), p. 457.
‗Portarea Rusiei facia de
Familia
România‘, Familia, 26 (30
26/1878
March/ 11 April 1878), p. 156.
‗Afganistan‘, Familia, 92 (3/19
Familia
December 1878), p. 586.
92/1878
‗Capitala Afganistanului‘, Idem,
Familia
21 (18/30 March, 1879), p. 142.
21/1879
‗Tulburările
din
Irlanda‘,
Familia
Familia, 97 (18/30 December
97/1880
1880), p. 606.
‗Educaţiunea
femeilor
la
Familia
chinezi‘, Familia, 4 (25
4/1887
60
Tribuna
Poporului
88/1898
Tribuna
Poporului
115/1898
Unirea
1/1891
‗Vandalisme ungureşti‘, Idem,
88 (10/22 May 1898), p. 431.
1898-1904
‗În unguri gendarmii nu puşcă‘,
Idem, 115 (18/30 June 1898), p.
563.
‗Anglia‘, Unirea, 1 (3 January
1891), p. 4.
Goldiş 1897
Books, brochures:
Boiu, Zaharia, Elemente de
Boiu 1872
Istoria patriotică şi universală
pentru
şcolele
poporale
româneşti
greco-orientale
[Elements of universal and
patriotic history for Popular
Romanian Greek - Oriental
Schools], Sibiu: Archdiecesan
Typography, 1872.
Constantin,
Diaconovici Diaconovici,
Márki 1899
Reteganul
1886
61
Enciclopedia
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[Romanian Encyclopedia], tom
I-III, Sibiu, W. Kraft, 18981904.
Goldiş,
Vasile,
Istoria
universală
pentru
şcolele
secundare [World History for
secondary schools], vol. III,
Braşov, N. I. Ciurcu Publishing
House, 1897.
Márki, S., Geografia pentru
şcolele civile şi superiore de fete
[Geography for civil schools and
for girls schools], Sibiu, Archdiecesan Typography, 1899.
Reteganul, Ioan Pop, Ţiganii
[The Gipsyes], Blaj, GreekCatholic School Typography,
1886.
Historiographical Discourse in Transylvania Magazine (1868-1895)
Alexandru NICOLAESCU
PhD Student, ‗1 Decembrie 1918‘ University of Alba Iulia, Romania
Faculty of History and Philology
E-mail: alex_nicolaescu@yahoo.com
Abstract. Our analysis stopped over the 1868-1895 period because it represents the first major step
in the evolution of ‗Transylvania‘ periodic. This period is divided by the editors of the magazine in three
individualized parts: George Bariţiu (1868-1878; 1881-1889); Ioan Popescu (1890-1891); Zaharia Boiu
(1892-1895). Each one of them established its own editorial management.
This study tries to draft the evolution of the historiographical discourse in ‗Transylvanian
Association for Romanian Literature and Culture of the Romanian People‘ magazine. Due to the large
number of papers that were focused on studying the life and activity of George Bariţiu, we did not want to
pay much attention to the period in which he was the editor. Ioan Popescu and Zaharia Boiu continued to
publish historical studies in Transylvania magazine even though they were not as good as their
predecessor. The two of them continued, to a great extent, the precedent editorial politic regarding the
type of historical studies published in the magazine.
Key words: Transylvania, press, George Bariţiu, Astra, historiographical discourse
After the end of the Romantic Age, which
was somehow indifferent to the true historical
demands, the Romanian historiography entered a
much stricter phase called positivism, in the first
part of the second half of the 19th century (Zub
1987, 146). The letter has not spared from
exaggerations as well, being considered, by
some historians, a post-romantic period or a lateromantic one. There was a struggling for
renewal in this period, especially concerning the
critical spirit, which will be imposed later on
(Zub 1985, 15-16). Efforts were made to
transform Romanian historiography in a more
professional one, but the process was real slow.
The appearance of history departments in Iaşi
(1860) and Bucharest (1864) did not also led to
the history‘s immediate professionalization, as it
happened in other countries (Boia 2011, 92-93).
The Romanian historiography‘s entry to
the criticism phase or to the critical spirit is
placed at the same time with the foundation of
the Junimea Society and ‗Literary discussions‘
magazine (Teodor, 1970, XXXIX). The new
orientation was barely imposed at the end of 19th
century, A.D. Xenopol being declared as the
initiator of this movement, influencing the later
great historians: N. Iorga, Ioan Bogdan, D.
Onciul and C. Giurescu.
The historians‘ concern for the topics that
were tackled was influenced by the current in
which they activated, now defending
approaches, genres and newer research methods.
It is to be noted that the publication of
documents was generalized in the period after
1849, while the historical interests were pointed
towards modern medieval and social history,
alongside with the political concerns that were
also preponderant. Besides the concern for
modern, medieval and antique history, the
events of the 19th century started to be discussed,
putting an emphasis on the history of the 1848
Revolution. Historical reviews and changes of
opinion also appeared in this period which
helped to find the solution to major historical
problems (Ibidem, XXXVI). All these
characteristics that belong to the period after
1849 will be fully retrievable and debated in the
pages of the Association‘s periodic.
Romanian historiography got a significant
answer through the contact with the specialized
literature from the West. Under this aspect, the
progress registered in Transylvania was less
obvious than in extracharpatic Romania, which
can be explained by the orientation of the latter
towards critical spirit, while Transylvanian
historiography
had
a
more
juridicalconstitutional vision, due to the propaganda for
historical writing (Zub 1985, 20).
Regarding the historical writing, we must
underline the role of the educational preparation
of the intellectuality in Transylvania, influencing
the historical development of the province (1).
The theological formation was quasi-total during
the Transylvanian School and in the fortyeighter
(1) For more clarifications, see Sigmirean 2000.
62
period,
among
the
intellectuals
from
Transylvania being also jurists and teachers. The
teachers studied philosophy, history and
philology, although their basic formation was
theological. After 1860, theology and the
sacerdotal class encountered a drastic diminution
of their social role, thus in the Transylvanian
intellectuality entered, starting now, more and
more intellectuals with studies in various
domains (Mureşanu 2003, 22-23).
In the second part of the 19th century, the
historical research received a tremendous output
from the cultural magazines, helping to
specialize and professionalize the history (Zub
1985, 192). The Association complied with the
requests of that period and founded its own
publishing department in various scientific
branches (Curticăpeanu 1968, 85).
The most important Transylvanian
historian that published in Transylvania
magazine was, without a doubt, George Bariţiu
(1). He led the magazine during its first twenty
years of existence. The second editor of the
Association‘s periodic, I. Popescu, did not have
historical preoccupations. As well as his
predecessor during 1890-1891, he pushed the
magazine towards literature (Ardelean 2009,
177). Zaharia Boiu, editor of the magazine
during 1892-1895, wasn‘t also interested in
history, leaning towards the publication of
articles referring to the Association‘s mission of
educational guidance through school and church
(Dicţionarul literaturii române de la origini
până la 1900, 1979, 110; Dicţionarul general al
literaturii române, literele A/B, 2004, 586).
The historiography of the Association‘s
periodic developed and revolved around
important personalities like: Timotei Cipariu,
Alexandru Papiu Ilarian and George Bariţiu. We
can also mention the following: Iosif Hodoş,
Ştefan Moldovan, Silvestru Moldovan, I. Sîrbu,
Augustin Bunea, N. Togan, T.V. Păcăţian, N.
Densuşianu, A. Marienescu, I. Lupaş, S.
Dragomir, Vicenţiu Babeş, Ioan MicuMoldovan, Silvestru Moldovan, S. Mangiuca
etc. Almost all of them contributed to
Transylvania magazine with historical studies.
Although some of the above-mentioned
personalities were not treated favorably by
historiography, being considered to have used
outdated methods of analysis and of historical
interpretation, they were still recognized as
being contributors to this field (2) (Zub 1985,
53). Another fact to be noticed is the absence of
Timotei Cipariu‘s studies in Transylvania
magazine, most probably due to the fact that he
was busy with the redaction of his own
publication entitled ‗The archive for philology
and history‘, which appeared in Blaj, in 1867.
The historians that were part of the
Association were acquainted with the
methodology and the research techniques of the
time, especially with the Romanian ones. Their
concerns focused mainly on national history.
They approached topics like: the origin of the
Romanian people and of the Romanian
language. But they hardly let go of the
exaggerated
approaches
of
Latinism
(Curticăpeanu 1981, 10). The Transylvanian
historiography of the second part of the 19th
century covered especially topics referring to the
history of the 18th century, a century of good
changes, marked by the national struggle in
Transylvania (Racoviţan 1992, 225-226). This
was due to the fact that the magazine was
supposed to have as an audience as many classes
as it could. Some of them were not familiarized
with the writings of a professionalized and
systematized history. That is why in
Transylvania magazine there were published
several popularization studies of the historical
writing during 1868-1895, covering subjects of
vital importance for the understanding of the
Romanian people‘s history. The large number of
biographies published when a cultural and
political personality died or at the anniversary of
a certain number of years from his/her birth or
death was not random. These studies/articles
were published with the purpose of developing a
conscience and a national pride, characteristic to
the Romanians who lived in Transylvania.
The studying and the publication of the
articles that referred to the medieval history and
especially the ones referring to the continuity of
Romanians in the former Dacian Kingdom was
one of the struggle methods of the Romanians
from Transylvania against the authorities‘
tendency of assimilating them. A veiled struggle
was carried in this sense by the Association‘s
periodic through the appearance of some studies
that referred to the ancient period, in the
contemporary political field, namely for gaining
of some rights for the Romanians living in
Transylvania. The most important series of
articles/studies were represented, as it was to be
(1) We did not want to analyze the historical writing
of Bariţiu because it was already analyzed in
numerous studies and volumes, of which the most
important being signed by V. Netea (1966) and
George Em. Marica (1980).
(2) We refer to Iosif Hodoş considered an amateur
historian.
63
séŭ aşa
numita
tabula
peutingeriana‘
(Transilvania 1891, 65-76; 97-110; 129-139;
161-173) analyses the tabula peutingeriana. In
this book, the author presents several villages in
Dacia which he wanted to identify with the most
well-known ones from the contemporary period.
The studies signed by the two authors mentioned
above are more of linguistic style, seasoned with
historical information.
During Zaharia Boiu, Transylvania
periodic published the following studies
referring to the medieval period: ‗Are the
Romans from Dacia descendants of the Roman
colonists and of the Dacian people who
remained here after the Roman conquering or
not?‘ (Transilvania 1892, 117-127; 166-173),
‗The result of the Dacian defeat by the Romans‘
(4) (Transilvania 1894, 15-27), ‗Why did the
Dacians romanize more easily than other
people?‘ (5) (Transilvania 1894, 313-321). We
can notice that during this period, Marienescu A.
and Broşteanu P. were not published anymore in
the magazine with studies referring to medieval
periods, Başiotă B., which also had a strong
Latinist faith, accordingly to the Transylvanian
School, being now preferred.
During 1868-1895, the majority of the
article/studies referring to medieval history had
as a topic the continuity of the Romans on the
former territory of Dacia, Transylvania
magazine giving this way an exhaustive answer
to Rösler‘s theory. The purpose of these studies
was also linked to the struggle for winning
political rights for the Romanians who lived in
Transylvania in the last decade of the 19th
century. The focus on the popularization studies
expected, by those referring to continuity and its
theories.
While the magazine was edited by Ioan
Popescu, A. Marienescu1 wrote most of the
studies referring to the medieval period. He
began his series with: ‗The Roman Emperor
Aurelian and his retreat from Dacia‘
(Transilvania 1890, 341-365) and he continued
with ‗The Roman leaders in Dacia during the
Sarmatians‘ (Transilvania 1890, 389-399; 421439), ‗Caucaland in Dacia‘ (2) (Transilvania
1891, 1-19; 33-45), ‗From which parts of the
Roman Empire were brought the Roman
colonists that were settled in Dacia‘ (3)
(Transilvania 1891, 354-364). The author,
a convinced Latinist, with concerns for folklore
and ethnography, proved to be a dogmatic spirit
in the history field, using outdated ideas
concerning the historical research (Zub 1985,
53). His Latinist conception can be deduced
from the above-mentioned studies. In the case of
the historical analysis, Marienescu turned to
examples and linguistic targets, wanting to
underline as often as possible the Latin character
of the Romanians.
Another author that published an article
referring to antiquity was P. Broşteanu. His
article ‗Charta lumiĭ (Orbis Pictus) de castoriu,
(1) Although he studied law, he presented himself as a
historian, philologist, folklorist and ethnographer.
As a historian he was attracted by the Latinity of
the Romanian people, approaching topics like: the
conquering of Dacia by the Romans, the Aurelian
retreat and the formation of the Romanian
language. He also wrote a manual of history
which was used in Banat for 15 years.
Nevertheless, his primary concern was folklore,
gathering several Romanian carols. He became
a member of The Romanian Academy in 1881.
(2) These studies present a more linguistic analysis,
but with more historical and geographical
references. He does a linguistic and topographic
analysis of the word ‗caucaland‘. These articles
were a continuation of the first two, as the author
declares.
(3) He treats this subject because he considers that
Romanians did not cover seriously this matter,
and that the foreigners who have studied it, treated
it with malice in order to denigrate the medieval
Romanian history. The study is based on many
quotations of the analyzed period but it also
presents versions of other modern historians. He
interprets the word of Latin authors translating
several phrases from the original, because he
considered that foreigners, out of hateful
purposes, wrongly translated certain expressions,
in order to sustain their theories, depending on
what was their interest.
(4) The author tries to demonstrates that Romanian
language comes from Latin, presenting several
Romanian and Latin words to support this theory.
(5) The author sustained the idea according to which
Dacia was founded by Illyrians and Italian
populations and for this reason the Dacian
language was similar to that of Romanians. For
the Latinisation of Dacia the author sustained that
colonists were brought from of the corners of the
Roman Empire. To the support of the Latinisation
the author presented the examples of Gaule
(considering that during Antoniu almost all of it
was romanized) and Spain (which during Nero‘s
period had already been romanized). In these
countries the Latin language was spoken in all
cities, while the local dialect gradually
disappeared. The author questions the following:
if in 117 Gaule was romanized, couldn‘t Dacia do
the same thing in 167 years? The article
represents a strong change in good of a Latinistic
point of view in the tradition of the Transylvanian
School.
64
about the Aurelian retreat, the Romanization of
the Dacians and especially the colonization of
Dacia by the Romans is not random. If we tie
these studies to the Romanian struggle for
political rights in the last part of the 19th
century, we can understand much more easily
why during 1890-1895 the Association‘s
periodic, which was forbidden to treat political
subjects, published most part of the studies
referring to the medieval period of Romanian
history.
During
1868-1889,
Transylvania
magazine was not concerned with the medieval
period, thus the published studies that referred to
this topic were close to none. This was due to
the low interest of the Transylvanian historians
towards an age dominated by the feudal
aristocracy of Magyar and German origin. The
interest for this period was way under the level
of research in the Romanian age, where the
Middle Age started to be studied with much
more interest.
A pretty interesting study which referred
to the medieval period appeared while Ioan
Popescu was editor. The study written by
Atanasie Marienescu, ‗The Arabia from the
Danube‘s outfall‘ (Transilvania 1890, 225-237),
tries a geographical description of Arabia,
presenting several data of its history with many
presentations and references made by medieval
historians, but also from a closer period. The
study leans on Haşdeu‘s explanation about the
name of Bessarabia, which is supposed to have
been composed of ‗Bess‘ and ‗Arabia‘, thus it
was known as The Arabia from the Danube.
This interpretation in presented at the end of the
study and it is neither contradicted nor adopted
by the author. The interpretation is, without a
doubt, outdated in our days, being unanimously
accepted that the name comes from the
Bessarabian lords from the Wallachia.
Nevertheless, the study is very interesting,
especially from the historical imaginary
evolution‘s point of view, which is not only
a characteristic of the author‗s article but more
likely of a generation.
The studies that approached contemporary
and modern history themes are not resolved
either. Even though during 1868-1889, Bariţiu
approached various themes like the revolt of
Horia, Cloşca and Crişan, the history of
Romanian border regiments, especially the
events of 1848-1849. By studying these events
he wanted to draw the attention over the
importance of the Romanians in Transylvania,
who were, in certain moments, the champions of
the renewal demands and of modernization. In
these studies there are also remembered the
Romanians from the other Romanian provinces
(Transilvania 1876, 73-76; 89-91; 97-100; 109111), and neither the ones from the Balkans
were forgotten (Transilvania 1885, 68-71). An
interesting idea is the one that treats the
Independence War of Romania during 18771878. In Transylvania magazine appeared many
articles with this topic, most of them claiming
the courage of the Romanian army in the battle
of Plevna (1) (Transilvania 1883, 157-160; 175177; Ibidem 1888, 17-21; 33-37; Ibidem 1881,
21-25; 39-42), intending this way to generate the
so-desired and so-clamed national changes for
Romanians.
Even though in the period when Bariţiu
governed, the articles referring to the history of
the 17th-19th centuries were plenty, during Ioan
Popescu they were represented only by the
series: ‗Information taken from foreign authors‘
(Transilvania 1890, 42-51; 65-72; 104-109; 271280), while during Zaharia Boiu, they were
entirely missing.
Even though a large pallet of issues was
approached and the culturalization of the
Romanian people was desired, Transylvania
magazine was not very appreciated, being
neglected by a high percentage of Romanians,
which were supposed to be its audience. This
happened due also to the fact that it was
considered to be too academic and not so
accessible (Iorga 1989, 482; Dicţionarul general
al literaturii române, literele S/T, 2007, 763764).
As a conclusion, we can notice the fact
that the magazine of the Association retook into
discussion certain issues of the Romanian
people‘s continuity, contradicting the theories
launched by Rösler. Wanting to create an
appropriate identity for the Romanians from
Transylvania, historians or, better said, pseudo
historians who published studies in Transylvania
magazine relapsed into Latinism, this time being
considered a positive one. The authors of the
studies that leaned over modern and
contemporary history topics wanted in return to
underline the greatness and the importance of
Romanians in certain events, considered by them
as very significant ones.
(1) It is a romanced description of the event,
resembling more to a sketch, and not at all to a
historical study.
65
References
Articles in reviews:
‗Transylvania‘ 1868-1895.
Books:
Ardelean 2009
Boia 2011
Curticăpeanu
1968
Dicţionarul
general al
literaturii
române, literele
A/B, 2004
Dicţionarul
general al
literaturii
române, literele
S/T, 2007
Dicţionarul
literaturii
române de la
origini până la
1900, 1979
Iorga 1989
Marica 1980
Ardelean, Teodor, Limba
română şi cultivarea ei în
preocupările Astrei [The
Romanian language and its
cultivation in the concerns
of Astra], Cluj-Napoca,
Limes, 2009.
Boia, Lucian, Istorie şi mit
în conştiinţa românească
[History and mith in the
Romanian
conscience],
Bucureşti,
Humanitas,
2011.
Curticăpeanu, V., Mişcarea
culturală
românească
pentru unirea din 1918 [The
Romanian
cultural
movement for the union of
1918], Bucureşti, 1968.
Dicţionarul general al
literaturii române, literele
A/B,
[The
general
dictionary of the Romanian
literature, A/B letters],
Bucureşti,
Encyclopedic
Universe, 2004.
Dicţionarul general al
literaturii române, literele
S/T [The general dictionary
of the Romanian literature,
S/T letters], Bucureşti,
Encyclopedic
Universe,
2007.
Dicţionarul literaturii române de la origini până la
1900 [The dictionary of the
Romanian literature from
its origins until 1900],
Bucureşti,
Romanian
Academy‘s
Publishing
House, 1979.
Iorga, N., Istoria românilor
din Ardeal şi Ungaria [The
history of Romanians from
Transylvania
and
Hungary],
Bucureşti,
Scientific and Encyclopedic
Marica, George Em., Studii
de istoria şi sociologia
Netea 1966
Sigmirean 2000
Teodor 1970
Zub 1985
Studies:
Curticăpeanu
1981
Mureşanu
2003
66
culturii române ardelene
din secolul al XIX-lea:
George Bariţiu – Istoric
[Studies regarding the
history and sociology of
Romanian –Transylvanian
culture in the 19th century],
vol.
III,
Cluj-Napoca,
Dacia, 1980.
Netea, Vasile,
George
Bariţiu. Viaţa şi activitatea
sa [George Bariţiu. Life and
activity],
Bucureşti,
Scientific
Publishing
House, 1966.
Sigmirean, Cornel, Istoria
formării
intelectualităţii
româneşti din Transilvania
şi Banat în Epoca modernă
[The history of Romanian
intellectuality’s formation
from Transylvania and
Banat in the modern era],
Cluj, PUC, 2000.
Teodor, Pompiliu, Evoluţia
gândirii istorice româneşti
[The evolution of Romanian
historical thinking], Cluj
Dacia, 1970.
Zub, Al., De la istoria
critică
la
Criticism
(Istoriografia română la
finele secolului XIX şi
începutul secolului XX)
[From the critical history to
Criticism
(Romanian
historiography at the end of
the 19th century and the
beginning of the 20th
century)],
Bucureşti,
Romanian Academy‘s Publishing House, 1985.
Curticăpeanu, V., ‗Astra şi
dezvoltarea
istoriografiei
româneşti‘ [Astra and the
development of the Romanian
historiography]. In Transilvania, 1981, X (LXXXVII),
no. 11.
Mureşanu, Camil, ‗Rolul
pregătirii
teologice
în
formarea intelectualităţii româneşti din Transilvania‘
Racoviţan
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Zub 1987
[The role of the theological
preparation in forming the
Romanian intellectuality from
Transylvania]. In Annales
Universitatis
Apulensis.
Series Historica, 7, 2003.
Racoviţan, Mihai, ‗Preocupări
istoriografice ale Astrei între
1867-1918‘,
[Historiographical concerns
of Astra between 1867 and
1918]. In Astra 1861-1991.
130 de ani de la înfiinţare,
Sibiu, 1992.
Zub, Al., ‗Spirit critic şi
reconstrucţie în istoriografia
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spirit and reconstruction in
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tom IX, 1984, Bucureşti,
Romanian
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67
Bessarabian Contributions to the Study of the Romanian Language
in the Context of Slavic Culture (the 19th Century)
Maria DANILOV
Associate Professor, PhD, National History Museum of Moldova
E-mail: danilovmaria@yahoo.com
Abstract. In the Bessarabian historiography there is no systematic analysis of the research
conducted by some Bessarabian personalities in the field of Slavistics. Still, some well-known
researchers, such as Polihronie Sârcu (1855-1905) and Alexandru Iaţimirski (1873-1925) can be found in
the reference lists and are considered to be the ‗founders of the Bessarabian Slavistics‘, as they imposed
this discipline as an important research field at the beginning of the 20th century. The current study can be
considered rather a brief and synthetic approach on Polihronie Sârcu's research on the matter of the
Romanian language in the context of the Slavic culture.
In Russia, the Romanian Studies emerged as a discipline belonging to the larger area of Slavistics.
The Russian researchers were interested in the Romanian language, folklore, old books – manuscripts or
printed – from the perspective of the cultural relations that have always existed between the Slavic and
Romanian areas. At the end of 19th century, famous scientists as V.I. Grigorovici, I.I. Sreznevski, A. I.
Sobolevski studied the cultural links between the Romanians and the Slavs. Thus, P. Sârcu's and Al.
Iaţimirski‘s works have perfectly matched Russian scientific interests. We want to underline the issues of
importance and impact of the Romanian language on understanding the cultural Slavic world of the era, in
the South-Eastern Europe. P. Sârcu and Al. Iaţimirski‘s researches do have a historical value and can be
considered ‗Bessarabian contributions‘ to the Romanian language and old Romanian books in context of
Slavic language.
Key words: Bessarabia, Russian Empire, Romanian language, Bessarabian Slavistics, Polihronie
Sârcu
Those who, no matter the reasons, are
interested in the issue of the Romanian language
in the context of the Russian culture will
necessarily face various information gaps,
especially when it comes to the ‗Bessarabian
contributions‘ to the matter. In the Bessarabian
historiography there is no systematic analysis of
this issue, even though – from a historiographic
point of view – some well-known researchers,
such as Polihronie Sârcu (1855-1905) and
Alexandru Iaţimirski (1873-1925) can be found
in the reference lists. Furthermore, they are
considered to be ‗founders of the Bessarabian
Slavistics‘, as they imposed this area as an
important reseach field (Ţurcanu 2004, 35), at
the beginning of the 20th century. We know even
less about the contribution of the Bessarabian
people to the research of the old Romanian
books. The current study can be considered
rather a brief and synthetic approach on
Polihronie Sârcu's research (1) on the matter of
the Romanian language in the context of the
Slavic culture.
It is not difficult to notice that, since at
least a century, Polihronie Sârcu's work has not
stirred
any
special
interest,
however
insignificant. We can only mention some studies
in the Soviet period, and some biobibliographical
completions,
signed
by
Alexandrina Matcovski (Matcovski 1976, 36)
and a more recent study that belongs to the
Russion historiography (Domosileţkaia 2009,
52-151).
For now, our degree of knowledge on
Polihronie Sârcu's works remains to the level of
the ideologized surface of the Soviet regime. Far
from mentionning some hasty findings regarding
our matter, we must notice that Polihronie
Sârcu's writings have unfairly faded into
oblivion.
of the Căpriana Monastery; a graduate of the
History and Phylology Faculty of the Sankt
Petersburg University (1878); private docent of
the same university (1883).
(1) Polihronie Sârcu (July, 30, 1855, Străşeni – June,
23, 1905, Sankt Petersburg), historian, Slavist,
and folklorist. He studied at the parochial school
68
Slavic Science (Sircu 1884, 235-247) – from
which we can easily notice the research
directions, related to the Romanian language, on
which the author insisted. Two aspects of the
matter deserve to be layed special emphasis on:
First, we must notice the range of matters
related to the importance and/or impact of the
Romanian language on the Slavic/Russian
science:
In a larger context it would be appropriate
to point out Polihronie Sârcu's contributions to
the research of the Romanian Phylology matters
in the Russian Empire.
We will notice that Polihronie Sârcu's
assessments are based on solid documentation
and advocated by a matchless eloquence: ‗The
object of my conferences will be the Romanian
language and literature. You can ask yourselves,
why would a philologist or a historian need to
know this language and of what importance
could this knowledge be for the Slavist, the
historian or the Russian philologist? In order to
answer these questions it is absolutely necessary
to follow both the historical destiny of the
Romanian people, as well as the main stages of
the birth of the Romanian language‘ (Sircu,
1884, 235). But before bringing a historical
explanation to the discussed matters, Polihronie
Sârcu spoke about the existence of a Romanian
language chair at the university: ‗About 40 years
ago, at this chair, Iacob Hâncu held a practical
course on the Romanian language. He also wrote
a textbook for this purpose and even a
crestomathy containing texts from the most
advanced Romanian literature in the era. This
textbook is still useful up to this date‘ (Sircu
1884, 234-241) (2). Let's follow on Polihronie
Sârcu's opinions on the Romanian people and
language's history.
The territory inhabited by the Romanians.
Polihronie Sârcu believed that the fact that ‗the
Romanian people inhabited a Subcarpathian
area, which might very well have been the Slavs'
early homeland [...]‘ was a false assumption:
The actual Romanian kingdom –
Transilvania, a part of the Banat, Bukovina and
Bessarabia [...], – these are all areas inhabited
by Romanians [...];
In Russia, the Romanian Studies emerged
as a discipline belonging to the larger area of
Slavistics. The Romanian language, folklore, the
old Romanian books – manuscripts or prints –
were appreciated among the Russian
researchers, firstly from the point of view of
some cultural links that always existed between
the Slavic and the Romanian spaces. At the end
of the 20th century, well-known Slavists, such as
V.I. Grigorovici, I.I. Sreznevski and A.I.
Sobolevski, were close to conceiving, through
their researches, a large perspective in the matter
of the cultural relations between the Romanian
and Slavic peoples. Thus, Polihronie Sârcu's
researches and/or contributions in the pointed
era, have perfectly matched the Russian people's
area of scientific interests (Sircu 1896, 17; Sircu
1914, 7). Or, this phenomenon can be followed
only to the extent to which the Bessarabian
personalities fitted into the Imperial Russian
scientific community.
Polihronie Sârcu has proved a constant
scientific interest for Slavic paleography, and
was considered a peerless knower of the old
Slavic texts, of the old church literature. The
Russian researcher V. Lamanski held him as ‗a
living encyclopedia, a source of information for
the universitary scientists, to whom he lavishly
offered consultations in matters of history,
ethnography, geography, history and litterature
of the peoples of the Balcans (Matcovski, 1976,
54). In the purpose of researching old texts in
the Balkan area, Polihronie Sârcu went for
documentation to the Romanian Principalities,
Bulgaria, Macedonia, Serbia, Transylvania,
Bukovina, Athos, Constantinople (1884-1893)
(1). He contributed to the reopening of the Chair
of Romanic Languages at the Sankt Petersburg
University. In 1883 he was a private lecturer at
the Chair of Slavic Phylology at the university,
where he lectured the Romanian language and
literature course (Domosileţkaia 2009, 78).
We will furthermore refer to the matters
approached by Polihronie Sârcu in his opening
lesson at the Chair of Romanian Language of the
Imperial University of Sankt Petersburg - On the
Importance of the Romanian Language for the
(1) During his documentation periods, Polihronie
Sârcu gathered an impressing collection of Slavic
manuscripts, that subsequently entered the
collections of the Imperial Academy În urma
stagiilor de documentare Polihronie Sârcu a
adunat o impunătoare colecţie de manuscrise
slavă, care au intrat ulterior în colecţiile
Bibliotecii Academiei Imperiale din Sankt
Petersburg.
(2) It is about the manual edited by Iakob Ghinkulov,
Načertanii pravil valaho-moldavskoi gramatiki,
SPb, 1840, 376 p. (Hancu 1840); the first
‗
Wallachian Moldavian‘ chair was opened at the
imperial University of Sankt Petersburg, in 1839.
It has functioned for twenty years, up until 1858,
with small interruptions.
69
The Romanians also live in Macedonia,
Moravia, where a whole region is called
Wallachia [...]:
The territory situated at the left of the
Dniester has not since long been ceded to the
Rusyns [...]‘;
The Danube is only a political border [...].
From the Southern Bessarabia and beyond the
Danube the population is mixed [...]. Towards
the Macedonian frontier there is a whole
ethnographical corridor inhabited by the
Romanians - that has not yet been explored [!].
Or, the mentioned territories indicate clearly that
the Romanians do live in the area of Slavic
interests (Sircu 1884, 234-237)‘.
And they are not only neighbors [...]. The
Byzantine and Russian chronicles both ‗attest
the Vlachs‘ to be living in this area, argued P.
Sârcu. At the same time, he recalls the
importance of the ‗Vlach element in the
Bulgarians' wars‘, but also about the fact that
those ‗admixtures of the Vlachs have woken up
the Turcs' wrath‘. Or, the ‗nobility of the Balkan
Slavs will find a permanent refuge in the
Romanian Principalities. This element has been
romanized throughout the centuries‘, claims P.
Sârcu: ‗The rulers of the Romanian
Principalities, but also the boyars, have strongly
stood for the Christians in Serbia and Bulgaria,
from the moment these countries had been
invaded by the Osmans‘ (Sircu 1884, 237).
vocabulary from the Bulgarians, and after the
fall of the Bulgarian State, its place was taken by
the Polish and Russian elements‘ (Sircu 1884,
238-239).
The Romanians – an Orthodox Centre. The 15th17th centuries
P. Sârcu properly considered that ‗in those
difficult centuries for the destiny of the
Christianity, the Danubian Principalities became
a centre of Orthodox refuge, just like Italy was
for the Byzantines and the Greeks‘. The
Romanians theirselves invited scholars from the
Slavic world and offered them good work
conditions for creating cultural works for the
whole Orthodox space. The holy places ‗in
Transylvania, in Wallachia or in Moldova are
full of monks [...]. Important cultural
personalities, such as Nikodi, Grigore Ţamblac
and Paisie have created here. They have created
their works for the entire Slavic world‘ (Sircu
1884, 239-261).
The Romanians – a Martyr People
In the 15th-17th centuries, the Romanians,
‗this martyr people, has carried on its shoulders
– and still carries – a lot of political and social
difficulties‘. The distinguished professor praised
the names of some prominent cultural
personalities of the Romanian people, who are at
the same time ‗big scholars not only for their
times, but for today's world as well‘. They were
highly knowledgeable in ‗European languages,
in Eastern and European literature: Petru
Movilă, the founder of the Kiev Academy,
Nicolae Milescu, Dimitrie Cantemir [...]‘ (Sircu,
1884, 241).
Less Known Pages of Russian History
In P. Sârcu's opinion, the knowledge of
Romanian history, and especially of the role it
played in Eastern Christianity, will shed more
light upon some less known pages from
Russians' history. And not only: the ‗Romanians'
relations with the Polish people and the Kazachs
are also a less known part of the history.‘
However, it is certain that a more careful
examination of the concepts P. Sârcu employs
on the historical events that took place in this
cultural space regarding the relations between
the Romanians and their Slavic neighbors also
reveals multiple interpretation errors. For
example, P. Sârcu incorrectly presumed that the
Romanians have been strongly influenced by the
Slavs, from a cultural point of view, due to some
strong historical links with them. Also, that once
‗they entered the Bulgarian Kingdom, it seems,
they converted to Christianity together […]‘
(Sircu 1884, 239) (1). Also that ‗the Romanians
borrowed the chancery as well as the diplomatic
The Romanian Principalities, at the Crossroads
of Two Cultural Worlds: the Slavic/Greek and
Romanic/German Worlds
In the above mentioned context, we will
also notice some working hypotheses, issued by
Polihronie Sârcu. In his opinion, the Romanian
Principalities were ‗a point of conveyance‘, or,
more exactly, a centre of the literary links
between the Slavs and the Greeks. This centre is
known due to ‗multiple acts of charity towards
the Mount Athos and towards other Orthodox
countries of the East‘. Furthermore, the
Romanian Principalities, ‗located at the
crossroads of two cultural worlds: Slavic/Greek
and Romanic/German are equally marked, in
their evolution by those political and cultural
influences. This space becomes an epicentre that
conserved traditions and permanent links, an
epicentre where these links and traditions have
(1) The Bulgarians became Christans at 864 under the
reign of the Tsar Boris [Mihail I] (852-889).
70
permanently collided, but where they have also
reconciled, on the Orthodox basis, directioning
and/or irradiating Christian traditions towards
the whole Orthodox East‘. This way, the
Romanians have culturally assumed the ‗mission
of being the successors of the Southern Slavs‘,
argues Sârcu. Unfortunately, this brilliant
cultural era of the Slavic literature ‗is very little
researched‘ (Sircu 1884, 240).
church writings which, being still a weak
language, could not immediately set free from
the Slavonic ties. But the first steps towards the
release from the Slavic model were slowly,
unsurely made [...]. The Slavonic alphabet, well
adapted to the sounds of the Romanian
language, served it for another long period of
time. The first translations were made line by
line, just like a gloss. It is only after countless
language experiences and exercises that, towards
the second half of the 16th century, full writings
were translated in Romanian, accompanied by
explanatory indices: what must be read at the
liturgical service and how must it be done. A
century had not yet passed when the people's
language won a place at least equal to the Slavic
one, not only in the church, but also in court and
in the diplomatic world. The most ardent
supporters of the Romanian language were two
well-known sovereigns: Princes Vasile Lupu
(1632-1654) and Matei Basarab (1633-1654).
Both wanted to gather the Romanian people in a
single country‘ (Sircu 1884, 243).
The most important literary phenomenon
of the period – in Polihronie Sârcu's opinion –
was represented by the chronicles ‗especially the
ones from Moldova, that all the Romanians can
be proud of‘. In the Romanian chronicles
‗priceless informations on the history of the
Southern Slavs, of those in Poland, Ukraine,
Turkey or Greece, that cover the 15th-17th
centuries, or the 18th century‘ can be found
(Sircu 1884, 244). A lot of ‗scholars-hierarchs,
who studied in Europe and in Poland, stood out:
Dosoftei, Varlaam, Iacob Stamati, and the
bishop Filaret. Besides their liturgical books,
they also wrote treatises, dogmatic writings, and
Christian apologetics‘ (Sircu 1884, 244).
About the Romanian Language and Polihronie
Sârcu's ‘Linguistic Amalgam’
Almost two decades after the debates
initiated by the Aacademy member I.I.
Sreznevski (1) regarding the origins of the
Romanian people and language, Polihronie
Sârcu claimed that ‗the Romanian nation was
constituted of a number of ethnical elements:
Roman, Thracian and Slavic. Along the
centuries, to the Latin structure joined barbarian
elements: first some Thracian elements and then
some other byzantine ones, then entire Slavic
layers. An insignificant Hungarian element also
superposed, and, finally, a Turk one joined‘.
Such a linguistical symbiosis is wrongly defined
as a ‗linguistic amalgam‘ (Sircu, 1884, 241). We
must also accent the fact that P. Sârcu is the first
Slavist in the science of the Russian Phylology
who recalls the existence of other Romanic
languages in the East: ‗With only 10 millions of
Romanians, the Romanian language has very
little dialects – only three: a Dacian one (in
Wallachia, Bessarabia, Bukovina, Transilvania
and Banat), a Macedonian dialect and a IstroRomanian one. This extremely valuable
linguistic material must be subject to a careful
analysis because it reflects a continuous struggle
between the languages and the victories that one
won over the other. A solid research of the
phenomenon will not only help us understand
the culture of the peoples in the Balcans, but
also to penetrate the essence of the resistance
and survival force of the Romanian people‘
(Sircu 1884, 242).
The formation of both the literary
language and the Romanian litterature is placed
by P. Sârcu towards the 16th century: ‗Until that
time, the literary language was the one of the
Romanian Folklore
The Romanian folklore is considered by P.
Sârcu to be a phenomenon ‗unique of its kind, a
synthesis of the European peoples of this area‘
(Sircu, 1884, 243). Doubtless, some of P. Sârcu's
interpretations and/or conclusions are confuse.
He states, for example, that the ‗spiritual
community of the Romanians and the Slavs
doesn't only consist in their language and in their
faith. Both the ritualic folkloric poetry, and the
lyrical and historical ones have a lot of affinities
with the Slavic one, especially with the Southern
Slavic one (Sircu 1884, 243)‘. Polihronie Sârcu's
findings were based on proofs gathered during
some ‗recent researches‘ in the Romanian
Principalities. He had gathered a rich folkloric
material: Romanian Christmas carols, that he
considered being ‗very similar to those
(1) I.I. Sreznevski (1812-1880), without being a
Romanist, has afforded some hasty conclusions on
the origins of the origins of the Romanian
language that, in his opinion, ‗abounds in Slavic
words, in such a way that writing and speaking
without them is just as impossible, as it is to
express yourself in English without the root of the
French origin word‘.
71
belonging to the Ukranian and Russian‘,
‗Serbian ballads that praised the hajduks and the
Cossacks‘. He also gathered materials from the
apocryphal litterature of the Southern Slavs,
where he rediscovered a strong reflection of the
Romanian folkloric works, that had gotten there
orally or in writing.
The 19th century is conceived as a modern
era, a new phase of the Romanian literature,
marked by its contact with the Western
European literatures. A ‗new direction‘ started
then, expressed ‗through the tendency of the
Romanian thinking to set free from the
Slavonism and to get closer to the Latin West‘.
P. Sârcu concludes that the most representative
sons of the Romanian people, such as ‗Hasdeu,
Odobescu, Xenopol, despite some ephemeral
political views, realize more and more that the
people who survived the Turkish and Phanariot
supremacy, has based its history on Byzantine
models, among the Slavic peoples of the East,
and develops based on the byzantine Orthodoxy‘
(Sircu 1884, 246). At the end of his lecture ‗On
the importance of the Romanian language for the
Slavic science, Polihronie Sârcu firmly states:
‗We, the Slavists, will never be sure on a big
part of the Slavs' history without knowing the
history, the litterature and the language of the
Romanians, just like the history of the latter will
not be clear enough without knowing the Slavs'
history‘ (Sircu 1884, 246).
Ghinkulov
1840
Domosileţkaia
2009
Matcovschi
1976
Conclusions
The recovery and valorisation of
Polihronie Sârcu's work have a special
importance for a better knowledge on the era of
the ‗cultural Slavonism‘ of the Romanian
people, and this, in its turn, can be classified
among the ‗Bessarabian contributions‘ to the
research of the Romanian language and the
Romanian old writings. We will also notice that
Polihronie Sârcu's works on the matter of the
Romanian language are marked by the
uncertainty of the situation that the Russian
Slavistics was in, at the end of the 20th century.
All this ‗scientific agitation‘ was a clue that the
the academic environment in the Russian
imperial society of Sankt Petersburg had a
certain level of knowledge of the Romanian
language in the context of the Slavic culture.
Sircu 1914
Sircu 1884
References
Ţurcanu 2004
Ţurcanu, Ion, Istoricitatea
istoriografiei. Observaţii asupra scrisului istoric basarabean [The historicity of the
72
historiography. Observations
on the Bessarabian historical
writing], Chişinău, 2004.
Ghinkulov, Iakob, Načertanii
pravil valahomoldavskoj gramatiki [The Wallachian Moldavian grammar rules], St.
Petersburg, 1840.
Domosileţkaia,
M.V.,
Izučenie rumynskogo jazyca i
kul’tury rumyn v Rossii (XIX
– načealo XX вв, [The study
of the Romanian language
and culture of the Romanians
in Russia (19th-early 20th c.)].
In:
Acta
Linguistica
Petropolitana.Trdy Instituta
Lingvistčeskih
Isledovanij,
tom I, otv. Redaktor N.N.
Kayanskii, Sankt Peterburg,
Nauka, 2009, p. 52-151.
Matcovschi,
Alexandrina,
―Personalităţi
care
au
contribuit la consolidarea
relaţiilor
moldo-ruse.
Polihronie Agapievici Sârcu
(1850-1905)‖. In: Prezenţe
moldoveneşti în publicaţiile
ruse din anii 1886-1905
[Personalities who contributed to the strengthening of
Moldavian-Russian relations.
Polihronie Agapievich Sîrcu
(1850-1905). In: Moldavian
references in Russian publications of 1886-1905], Chişinău, Scientific and Encyclopedic Publishing House,
1976.
Sircu,
P.,
Iy
byta
bessarabskih rumyn [From
the life of the Bessarabian
Romanians] St. Petersburg,
1914.
Sircu, P., O značenie
rumynovedinja
dlja
slaveanskoj nauki, v žurnal
Ministerstva
Narodnogo
Prosvescenia, avgust, čeast’
[On the importance of
Romanian Studies for Slavic
Science.
In:
Zhurnal
Ministerstva
Narodnogo
Prosveshcheniya [Journal of
the Ministry of National
Education], August, Part
CCXXXIV, SPb (1884).
The Emergence of a New Educational Model during the Long
Nineteenth Century. A Study Case: Children’s Education
Georgeta FODOR
Assistant Lecturer, PhD, ‗Petru Maior‘ University of Tirgu Mures, Romania
E-mail: georgeta.fodor@science.upm.ro
Abstract. Education was one of the domains which registered great changes - challenges too during the modern age. It is during this period of time while the bases of a modern institutionalized
educational system were set. This should be considered a consequence of the intellectual debates led by
Romanian scholars who were more than convinced that a nation‘s progress lies in granting to its people
the right to education. Their interest materialized in an entire literature on the best model to be applied for
educating Romanian people in order to contribute and facilitate the society‘s progress towards
modernization. Thus, the study focuses on this kind of literature which was published during the second
half of the nineteenth century. Our aim is to find the patterns of this new educational model that emerged
as a consequence of the debate on the education‘s importance in the Romanian society during the long
nineteenth century. We are also interested in revealing the new perception on child which developed in
the context and as a consequence of the previous mentioned debate. We made a selection of the published
materials due to their great number, but we chose the ones which best reveal the features of this ‗literary
genera‘.
Key words: educational model, nineteenth century, children, debate, school textbooks
In 1915 Direcţiunea Statisiticei Generale
(The Institute of Statistics) published a survey
on the literacy level of Romanians. The report
was based on the figures from the final results of
the General Census made by Romanian
authorities in 1912. The aim of the report was to
determine the cultural level of the nation as
literacy was seen as its indicator (Statistica
1912, I). This study is also relevant for the
present approach as it makes reference, within
the Introduction, to the population‘s level of
literacy as this resulted from the census made in
1899. Thus, we can have a better insight of all
the efforts made by the State and its intellectuals
in order to increase the level of literacy among
citizens. According to the figures form 1899,
78% of the population over seven years old was
illiterate. From a gender point of view, the
figures are even worst as almost 90% of female
population was illiterate. Comparing these
figures with the ones from 1912, and keeping in
mind the fact that the population registered a
demographic growth, situation did change. We
can infer that progress was made by 1912, since
the percentage of literate women grew from
10.9% to 23.2%. Although a progress was
registered, the dissatisfaction caused by these
figures was expressed by those who published
the statistics. They laid stress on the finding that
illiteracy was still higher among women
compared with men and also that the law
making the elementary school compulsory for
women was more difficult to impose for women
than men (Ibidem, XVIII, see also Fodor 2013).
Despite these figures, a progress was made. It
can be seen also as a result of the efforts made
by the State in order to expand the
institutionalised educational system. In fact, the
State started to have a coherent politics in this
domain since 1864 when the Education Law was
elaborated. According to it, the primary school
was made free and compulsory. This law was
followed in the 90s by three other laws: Take
Ionescu‘s Law, in 1893; Poni‘s Law, in 1896
and Spiru Haret‘s Law, in 1898. Besides these
formal decisions, the intellectuals tried by all
means, not only through the institutionalised
ones; to contribute to the progress of educational
level of ordinary men and women. As a
consequence of their interest, a real intellectual
debate took place in Romanian society during
the second half of the nineteenth century.
Indeed, among the reasons of the debate one can
mention the controversies caused by the
education laws elaborated by the State.
Alongside with this reason, we must mention the
intellectuals‘ interest in the population‘s level of
literacy. It is also a proof for their strong
73
involvement in the general effort of modernising
Romanian society. Form the intellectuals‘ point
of view; this modernization could be made by
increasing the population‘s cultural level, also.
This attitude explains the emergence of an entire
‗literature‘, and by literature we refer to journal
articles, school textbooks, translations etc.
having as main subject the educational question.
We will try, in what follows, to give an
overview on the key aspects of this debate
aiming at an objective view on the new
educational model which resulted as a
consequence of this debate. As the information
is plenty, we will not insist on laws and statistics
as they had already been subject of analysis in
other researches. Thus, we analysed different,
one can call them informal, types of documents
which can allow us to have a better view on the
complexity of the debate on the best model to
educate a child. In fact, we chose three types of
documents: the ones that had as subject of
analysis ‗the theory‘ meaning those published
studies or books written with the intention of
teaching the parents how to raise their children
according to the imperatives of a modern world.
We also focused on several textbooks as we are
interested in revealing how theory met with the
practical teaching. We also analysed translations
or adaptations from foreign authors. We chose
this type of texts in order to see the impact of the
western scientific literature on Romanian society
in what children‘s education and care was
concern. This perspective of analysis is
necessary in the context of the age and for the
effort we make to identify the new educational
model as well as the new perspective on children
that emerged under the impact of the scientific
progress registered in Western Europe.
The present study will focus on two facts:
the new modern educational model and the new
modern child as they both were ‗designed‘
during the long nineteenth century Romanian
society.
In order to have a pertinent view on the
subject, two were the key terms we need to
define.
First, we have to explain the concept of
educational model and secondly, the concept of
child/children.
By new educational model, we make
reference to the patterns of modern educational
system as a result of the progress registered by
the science of pedagogy with the works of J. J.
Rousseau or Pestalozzi. Such works have also
been influential in Romanian society. The fact is
proven both by Romanian translations of these
authors but also by the perspective intellectuals
had on education.
Through educational model, we do not
understand only the formal, State elaborated
one. We also refer to the education the parents
were taught to give their children. Indeed, the
State has a great merit in this sense. In fact,
beginning with Spiru Haret, the idea of
extracurricular education for both children and
adults gains ground in Romanian society, too
(Albulescu 2008).
The documents of the age testify that there
was a considerable effort to streamline and
update the knowledge of child rearing. This
could be also considered as a result of the
modernization process. Thus, we could also
discuss, in the more general context of
education, by the effort Romanian scholars made
for educating not only the children according to
the imperatives of a modern society but parents
as well.
The phrase educational model was also
chose due to the fact that it best describes a
feature of the long nineteenth century. It is this
period while Romanian society, its intellectuals
in fact, became aware of the great role education
has in a changing society. It is during this period
of time Romania developed its modern
educational system: primary free and
compulsory schools, secondary and higher
education institutions.
In what the concept of child is
concerned, it also steps in its modern age. The
child will no longer be considered as a small
adult, but a distinct human being who should be
treated as like. This is also a consequence of the
progress registered by psychology, pedagogy
and medical sciences.
Besides these conceptual delimitations, we
must also stress the fact that we made a selection
based also on the professional background of the
writers. For instance, we consider of great
relevance that university professor discussed the
education‘s problem in an effort of finding the
best suitable model for Romanians. We paid
attention to the gender of both the authors and of
their public target, too. This aspect is to be taken
into consideration due to the fact that in the
context of the general debate on children‘s
education a researcher cannot separate this issue
from the debate over the role a woman should
play in the society. As we had proven in our
previous studies, women as mothers were the
first called to set the bases of a child‘s education
(Fodor 2012 a., 200). Thus, it is no surprise that
during the nineteenth century in Romania were
published plenty of books for teaching women
74
whose mission in life was to raise the children
according to the society‘s imperatives. No aspect
was left outside the analysis: from practical
advice given for pregnant women up to the best
rearing methods mothers should respect in order
to have a healthy, well educated child. The
reasoning is the following: this child was not
only someone‘s boy or girl; it also meant in fact
a healthy, well educated citizen. This is for
instance the aim which motivated physician
Dimitrie Cantemir to publish a textbook in 1877.
Its ‗target audience‘ were the parents, in general,
and mothers in particular. The reason behind this
initiative can be found in the fact that mothers
were seen as the ones called to preserve and
transmit a people‘s legacy and tradition. This
attitude towards women‘s role in society can be
considered as a consequence of the society‘s
progress during the nineteenth century. But it is
also truth that the same progress explains the
negative attitude against some of these traditions
and practices seen as no longer suitable or even
wrong. These are among the reasons which
made Dimitrie Cantemir write: Consilii
Hygenice pentru creşterea copiilor (Hygiene
Advice for Raising Children). The title suggests
a manual of parenting (Cantemir 1877). The
author tries to give parents, to mothers in the
first place, a child‘s rearing textbook based on
his experience as a physician. He considers that
mothers must have a guiding book in order to
learn how they could best rear their children.
What is more significant is the author‘s intention
to correct ‗the traditional wrong practices‘ which
he noticed in children‘s education. Once again
modernity and tradition are brought on the same
scene in an effort of conciliation. In fact, the
author‘s intentions were clearly stated from the
very beginning: as a physician his intention was
that of correcting, and even eradicating, the bad
habits mothers had in their children‘s education:
Although the book focuses on the medical
aspects of a child‘s education it is relevant for
our present approach for several basic reasons: it
underlines the central role of mothers in
children‘s education as well as for its effort of
streamlining the best methods for educating
Romanian children. The author is very modern
in view as he considers that a child‘s health,
education and future depend on mother‘s
physical and intellectual features. Thus in the
first chapter he insists on giving advice to future
mothers. He does this by stressing some of the
bad practices which he considers to be harmful
to the child. He seems to respect a somehow
chronological order as the first bad habit he
discusses is the early marriage. He considers that
a girl of 14-16 years old is not physically
prepared for childbirth. The author questions
himself:
‗What can a young woman become when
married in such a tender age, before reaching
her physical maturity and without having her
reproductive system fully developed?‘ (Ce pote
deveni dar o tînără copilă la o etate atât de
fragedă, întrată în viaţa conjugală, înainte de a
fi luat o desvoltare complectă a corpului, înainte
ca organele concepţiunei să fie de ajuns
formate?) The best age for a woman to be
married
should respect
a
physician‘s
prescriptions: 18 years old says Cantemir to be
the perfect age. This is the age when a woman
riches her physical maturity (Ibidem, 3).
But there should be made exceptions to
this rule, for instance, if the woman was of
weaker constitution she should wait until she
was 21 before marrying. But both extremes
should be avoided: neither an early marriage nor
a too older one.
A threat to child‘s health is also
considered to be the alcoholism. On this subject
Cantemir is only one of many voices considering
it as being an endemic problem of Romanians.
The following chapters of the book deal with
such matters as pregnant women; potential
dangers a woman could face while being
pregnant (among these the author mentions the
corset women still used to wear). The author
discusses other topics such as breastfeeding or
the colostrums. In the concluding chapter of the
first part of the book, the author reiterates the
reasons for the advice he gave to young mothers:
due to the guidelines in his book,
‗An eight years medical practice as well
as a deep interest for this subject, authorizes me
to discuss all the bad practices of raising
children preserved and transmitted as dogmas
by parents from one generation to another. I do
this as the society lacks such a book about
Hygiene‘ (O practică medicală de opt ani şi o
osebită aplicaţiune pentru acest studiu, me
aotoirză de a’mi ridica vocea asupra tutror
obiceiurilor vătămătore, pe care tradiţiunea le-a
conservat, în creşterea copiilor şi pe care
mumele le transmit ca nişte dogme moştenite de
la părinţii lor, în lipsa unei cărţi speciale pentru
această parte importantă a Hygienei) (Ibidem,
III).
‘mother will no longer feel the need to ask for
advice from women living next door whose
75
advice could sometimes do more damage than
good‘ (Aceste linii sper că vor fi cu atât mai
folositoare cu cât mamele nu vor mai avea
nevoe de a cere sfaturi la tote femeele vecine, a
căror poveţe sunt adese-ori forte contrazicătore, şi care le au fost impuse a le urma ca
nişte dogme venite de la persone ce au
preptenţiunea de a le cunosce din esperianţă)
(Ibidem, 19).
blood thus their milk is not always protein rich‘
(In alegerea lor vom prefer tot-dé-una o femee
negricioásă, cu părul şi ochii negri; femeile
blonde sunt în genere limphatice sau cu puţin
sînge, şi prin urmare cu un lapte nu întot-dé-una
bogat în principii nutritive) (Ibidem, 35).
Besides these key issues the author also
discusses the problem of the baby‘s clothing; the
food diversification; the hygiene and other
aspects considered – even nowadays – as being
among the paediatricians‘ major concern.
If we try to evaluate the importance this
work has for the present scientific approach, we
consider that it lies in all the points Cantemir
expressed within the book‘s pages. It is also
valuable because, during the age, there are not
so many books of this kind and with so much
attention paid to every detail concerning the
pregnancy, the childbirth and the first years of a
baby‘s existence. Thus, its value is given by the
effort of setting the basis for the ‗parenting
science‘. The author moves away from the
traditional practices of child rearing by replacing
them with scientific advice and practices.
Moreover, its value is increased by the author‘s
experience in children‘s treatment as a
physician, so he speaks out of his own
experience. It is also a proof that a new
conception on the child has emerged during the
XIX century. It is also a testimony of the effort
the doctors and school teachers made in order to
educate the parents, in general, and mothers in
particular. But not all the questions got there
answer. There are still questions to be asked:
what was the impact this book had during the
age. How many parents could have had access to
it? The answer to this question should take into
consideration the illiteracy rate.
This specific kind of textbooks dealing
with such subject matters as the children‘s
rearing according to scientific rules are not so
many during the period. We have a very
generous literature dealing with the moral and
religious education children should be taught,
instead. They are the proofs for Romanian elites‘
effort of trying to find a compromise between
the modern influence on one side and the
traditional features of Romanian family on the
other. They, as well as Romanians from
Transylvania too, feared that modern world and
modern style of education will endanger the
basic cell of the society which was the family.
How else could we explain the accent on the
moral and religious education? But these kinds
of prints are also valuable in the effort of
constructing the features of Romanian child
Cantemir is actually among those Romanian
intellectuals considering that science should
overcome tradition, not entirely of course, but
the latter should be purified of all those bad
practices transmitted through tradition:
‗Young women: beware of all the advices,
passed down from one generation to the next
,considered by the science as being harmful and
hazardous‘ (Feriţi-ve dar, junelor femei, de tote
acele consilii ce au fost transmise din generaţie
în generaţie, şi pe care ştiinţa le condamnă ca
vătămătoare şi periculose) (Ibidem).
The same seems to be the author‘s attitude
towards breast feeding, subject analyzed in the
second part of the book. He criticizes another
bad habit of young Romanian mothers,
especially of those from the high-class, who
deliberately chose not to breast feed the babies.
He considers that this is not only a lack of
maternal love but also the equivalent of
infanticide. The refuse of breast feeding is
considered to be an explanation for the highest
rates of infant mortality. He describes this
practice as being a ‗controlled infanticide‘. This
view is nothing more than an argument for
proving the fact that the traditional perception of
children as small adults who do not need a
different or special attention has long gone. The
stress weaves now towards the child understood
as a distinct entity who needs to be treated
accordingly. The tendency to put the maternal
education on certain scientific bases is more than
obvious even when the author insists on the
psychological side of mother-child relationship.
Besides this well-argued statements, some
pieces of advice seem to be rather traditional
than modern. For instance, he suggests that
women who could not breastfeed the baby
should better choose a dark complexion woman
as wet nurse. The author considers that this kind
of woman‘s breast milk was healthier and richer
in proteins:
‗one should choose a brunet, with black eyes
and hair; the blondes are lymphatic or with less
76
during this time period. We intend to see if the
tradition had changed in what the children‘s
education is concerned. Also, two facts must be
stress: that the authors of such texts are also
prominent personalities of the Romanian cultural
life, and secondly that they had insisted mainly
on girls‘ education. The latter fact can be
explained by the new perception on women that
arose also during the XIX century. They were no
longer seen and perceived just as loyal men‘s
subordinates but also as those who could
determine a nation‘s bright or dark future.
Everything was directly connected with their
quality as mothers who took care not only of
their children but of the country‘s future
citizens. This perspective is in fact both new and
old at the same time: these are the traditional
roles a woman had for centuries. What is new is
the interpretation the author gives, as these
traditional roles gain a modern perspective being
seen as women‘s social roles. This new
perspective on women will be clearly affirmed
in an entire literature dedicated to women. It is a
literature discussing the Romanian women‘s
education in order to become a ‗modern
Romanian mother‘. On one hand, there was the
education a woman needed for meeting the
families‘ necessity, an education based on
religion and morality, and, on the other hand,
there was the school education for learning basic
knowledge a woman needed in order to become
a ‗social player‘ (Fodor 2012 a., 203).
This perspective is subject of another book
published during the same period. The manners
and morality, of both boys and girls, will be
discussed by I. Constantinescu in his reading
book titled: Carte de Citire pentru Formarea
Moravurilor fiiloru si fiicelor crestine (A
Reading Book for Educating the Manners of
Christians Sons and Daughters), published in
Bucharest, in 1882 (Constantinescu 1882).
Before making a content analysis of the text, we
must keep in mind not only the fact that the
author was a priest, but also that he was a
professor to the girls‘ school from Bucharest. He
wrote the text as both a priest and a teacher. The
two qualities are in fact joined in order to set
some reference points in the moral and religious
education of the youth. In fact, and this is
explainable by the author‘s basic formation – as
priest – that moral education is deeply
influenced by the religious morale. It is not a
surprise that the book addresses to female public
in the first place. The author, like many others,
explains why Romanian girls needed to be raised
with a strong moral base. Everything is related
with the mission women were supposed to have
in the social life but also with this modern view
on women understood as citizens of the nation,
not equal with men, but citizens indeed.
Traditional is the fact that woman‘s quality as a
citizen is given by her basic feature as mother. It
is the motherhood which gains a ‗modern‘
definition: by this quality women fulfil their
social role. This seems to be also the author‘s
point of view while considering that
‗a woman is one of the most important
member of the religious and civil society;
because a wise, caring and religious woman is
the soul of a house‘ (pentru că femeea este unulu
din cele mai puternice resorturi ale societăţei
religioase şi civile; pentru că o femee înţeleptă,
băgătore de semă şi religiosă, este sufletulu
casei) (Ibidem, 5).
Opposite
to
Cantemir‘s
scientific
approach, Constantinescu gives Romanian
readers a book of morals offering guidance to
the youth according to the religious
prescriptions. It is divided in three parts: the first
is centred on religious matters: a Christian‘s
dignity; a Christian‘s duties; the prayers;
celebrating the Sunday and the religious
holidays. The second part, which is of great
value for our present study, consists of several
chapters
dealing
with
parents-children
relationship. The author is not interested in
giving parents advice in the spirit Cantemir did,
but rather insist on religious and moral
obligations they have to each other. Four were a
child‘s responsibilities to his/her parents: love;
respect; subordination and help (Ibidem, 40).
These were the constitutive elements of the
relation among family members inspired by the
Trinitarian model of the family: hierarchy and
love must govern earthly family as it governs the
relationship between the Persons of the Holy
Trinity (Lung 2006, 140). The third part of the
text keeps the same religious perspective when
discussing about the children‘s educational best
suited model and their Christian moral duties.
Although the text somehow recalls the medieval
spirit, it cannot be considered outdated, on the
contrary: in an age when ‗liberty‘ was
sometimes seen as a potential threat to
traditional values, this book insists on the latter.
The author understands that, as both a priest and
a teacher, he must give children guidance in this
changing world. He tries somehow – and in this
respect he is not the only one – to preserve
Romanian traditional values. Religious identity
was among them.
77
These conclusions are valid for several
printed editions of the textbooks used in girls‘
schools. They also seem to have as main
objective that of educating the girls for their
future duty as wife and mothers. The authors, of
such materials, mostly priests, clearly specify
sometimes that the school books must be gender
differentiated. Look for instance at the textbook
published by a school teacher, T. V. Stefanelli.
This time it is clearly specified in the title that
the book is for Christian learning. The book is a
girls‘ only one and the author underlines this.
Not only the subject but also the layout is
designed for girls:
in Craiova and proves the fact that same
concerns were preoccupying not only the
intellectuals from Bucharest. The book is also
relevant as it addresses to children in a very
simple language. It is a reading book specially
designed for children - one more proof that
children are seen as distinct individuals that need
not only a special care but also a specific
education according to their level of
understanding. This does not mean that we
stepped outside the moral and religious
education a child should accumulate. The
reading book remains in the same spirit:
teaching the kids by examples. The stress is now
on how important is for a child to go to school
and study. It respects somehow the educational
program of the State which was intended to
increase the literacy level of its citizens. Copilu
care scie să citéscă (The child who knows how
to read) versus Copilulu care nu scie să citéscă
(The child who does not know how to read) or
Constantin versus Florea and Cezar; Copilulu
Inţeleptu (The Wise Child) are some of the
subjects which appear in the book under the
form of short stories easily understandable for
children. The moral aspect is inserted within the
text which underlines the benefits of
institutionalized learning. For instance, the story
about the boy who knows how to read describes
a boy who listens to his teachers, who helps his
parents. This is opposed to Cezar‘s story who is
lazy, who does not want to learn preferring to
play games with his friends (Ibidem, 5-6).
Between these two cases, going from one
extreme to another, the author describes the case
of another boy who cannot read because he does
not have the necessary means: his father died
and his mother could not afford to send him to
school. It is a touching story, of impact to the
young minds, as it ends by describing the
unhappiness this boy turned into an adult will
feel by not being able to write or read his
mother‘s letters (Bietulu Florea înţelege că mai
târziu cându va fi departe nu va pute nici să
scrie mumei sale, nici să citescă scrisorile ce’i
va trimite ea. Bietulu băiatu este nenorocitu)
(Ibidem).
Much the same energy is put for
educating the parents. They are seen not only as
those who must provide for their children and
cover their material needs. They are perceived,
and this is an idea widely expressed in the age,
the ones to set the basis for the children‘s
intellectual and cultural development. Another
author who could be included in this group is
Ioan Slavici. He wrote a textbook on ethics and
aesthetics while being a school teacher at the
‗This book is different from the other one
through the colour displacement so that the
prologue, the text as well as the epilogue make a
religious and moral impression on girls and
considering that, the boys do not need such a
displacement, the epilogues being enough for
this purpose.
This book is different from the other one
because the message and the examples are
adapted to the girls present and future’
situation. The reason for this consists in that the
girls will not be theologians or high rank
officials‘ (Această carte se deosebesce de ceeal-altă prin propunerea acromatică; acesta se
face din motivul că atât prologul şi tratatul, cât
şi epilogul, să producă simţiri religiose şi
morale durabile, care la băeţi au să se producă
numai prin epilogurile respective).
Această carte …se deosebesce de ceea-laltă, pentru că apelurile sunt adresate cătră
eleve şi esemplele şi cele-l-alte, cât cu putinţă,
acomodate starei presente şi viitore. Acesta se
face din motivul, că elevele nu vor fi nici teologi,
nici nu vor ocupa locuri de funcţiuni mai înalte
ale Statului) (Stefanelli 1887, V, VI).
The text proofs also that the difference
between boys and girls, even at their capacities
and level of understanding, still exists.
It is also a testimony for arguing that
religion and morality seem to be among the
main concerns connected with the children‘s
education. Priests and school teachers make
efforts in giving Romanian children the basic
knowledge they needed for turning into adults.
But not only priest - teachers shared this point of
view. Laymen share the same opinion, too.
George T. Buzoianu, a history and geography
teacher had a similar vision on education. He is
the author of a reading book Miculu Şcolaru
(The Little School Boy) about a child‘s qualities
and defects. The text seems to be an adaptation
from French (Buzoianu, 1883). It was published
78
girls‘ school financed by Ioan Oteteleşteanu.
The school was financed with a clear purpose:
that of helping the students to become ‗good
mothers and wives‘ (Întru fericire pomenitul
Ioan Oteteleşteanu a luat în testamentul seu
disposiţiunea, ca fetele adăpostite în insititutul
susţinut din averea lăsată de densul să fie
crescute aşa, ca ele să poată fi «bune mume şi
bune soţii») (Slavici, 1897, III). We have
another textbook for the fifth grade students. But
the textbook is very different form the texts we
had analyzed so far. It was deliberately made for
teaching morals and morality. These two were
transformed into a distinctive subject matter. He
teaches ethics and aesthetics, which include
notions concerning the children‘s rearing also.
The author was a school teacher appointed to
teach these lessons. As a consequence, he
published the text in order to help his future
students:
on how they should be treated by their parents
and by the society. The family is seen as the
natural result of a freely consented marriage
whose destiny is accomplished through children.
The author considers that a complete family
consists of six members, three of each sex
(Ibidem, 118). In what the parental relationships
were concerned, Slavici gives a modern view.
The child is not seen just as his/her parents‘
flesh and blood but also as the inheritor of their
spiritual legacy. Thus, the parents‘ love for their
children should include not only sympathy and
protection but also the interest towards the
development of the child‘s individuality (Copilul
nu e numai carne din carnea părintelui şi sânge
din sângele lui, ci tot-o-dată şi continuaţiunea
lui sufletească. De aceea iubirea părintească nu
e numai compătimire, nici numai simţement de
conservare, ci tot-o-dată şi ambiţiune pentru
desvoltarea propriei individualităţi) (Ibidem).
We should not exaggerate: Slavici is more
modern in defining family relationships but he is
not a revolutionary! He respects the traditional
perspective of the family seen as a hierarchy led
by the husband. Children must respect the
paternal authority. Children must obey the
parents‘ decision even in such problems as
choosing a professional career or choosing a life
partner (…copilul nu poate să primească nicio
însărcinare fără de voia părinţilor sei, nu să-şi
aleagă cariera, nici, mai ales să se
căsătorească) (Ibidem, 122). The hierarchy is to
govern the relations among brothers and sisters
too. Respecting this advice, the children will rich
their best in both family and social life (Acela,
care e bun fiiu, e şi bun frate şi are să fie şi bun
soţ şi bun părinte, om bun şi bine deprins, careşi face în toate împregiurările datoria) (Ibidem,
124). We can imagine the impact this school
subjects had on the minds of the future mothers.
This effort of educating the parents seems to be
among societies‘ main objectives. A similar type
of literature can be seen at Romanians from
Transylvania too. It must also be stressed the
fact that the tone and language seem to be
adapted to the readers‘ social level. The leader
of this campaign for increasing Romanians‘
cultural level was ASTRA, of course. Since
1861, when the association was established, it
worked mainly for the purpose of educating the
nation. This aim was obviously even in the
organization‘s name, ASTRA being the
abbreviation for Asociaţia transilvană pentru
Literatura Română şi Cultura Poporului Român
meaning an Association for Romanian literature
and for Romanians‘ culture (Fodor 2012, 24).
They also published books for educating the
‗they should focus not in copying it but
rather on the housework duties or in the
activities done in the workshop’ (mi-am pregătit
caietul şi l’am dat la tipar, pentru ca elevele
mele, care sunt foarte ocupate în gospodărie şi
în atelier, să nu mai fie nevoite a-l copia)
(Ibidem, III).
But the author considers that not only
students will benefit from the text but mothers
will found it useful too. (Îl pun la disposiţiunea
publicului atât pentru ca mai mulţi să-l poată
citi şi corecta, cât şi pentru că am convingerea
firească, că ori-şi-care mumă poate să tragă
foloase din citirea lui) (Ibidem, IV). Moreover,
Slavici considers that this kind of book is needed
in Romanian society as it lacks this kind of
literature. This textbook was his personal
contribution to the development of such a
literature (Noi avem trebuinţă de o asemenea
carte, şi ori eu voi fi ajutat să întregesc şi să
corectez pe aceasta, ori altul, care e mai bine
pregătit şi dispune de mai mult timp, va scrie
alta mai bună) (Ibidem).
The third part of the book Morala socială
(Social Morality) discusses the family relations.
By the social morality the author refers to
common life whose origins are to be found in
the normal parents-children relationship (Ibidem,
118).
The text resembles to the one of Cantemir
we previously analyzed. He is not so scientific
though. It definitely recalls the modern
definitions and views on family and children.
The text can offer also a better view on how
children were perceived in the society, as well as
79
parents which stressed the importance of
educating the children. For instance, V. Gr.
Borgovanu will publish Ionel. Principii morale
şi creştineşti de educaţiune, (Ionel. Principles of
Moral and Christian Education). It is a series of
volumes about the importance of education
(Borgovanu 1904). The book is part of the
collection coordinated by Astra’s Library
(‘Bibilioteca poporală a Asociaţiunii’). It is a
serial of five volumes, analyzing general aspects
of education: Principii morale şi creştineşti de
educaţiune. Cartea I. Familia; Principii morale
şi creştineşti de educaţiune. Cartea II. Ionel de
un an; Principii morale şi creştineşti de
educaţiune. Cartea III. Ionel până la şese ani;
Principii morale şi creştineşti de educaţiune.
Cartea IV. Ionel la şcoală; Principii morale şi
creştineşti de educaţiune. Cartea V. Ionel la
şcoala vieţii.
The fourth book starts with an epigraph
that perfectly mirrors the new perspective on
children considering that the educated ones are
the greatest assest (Copilul bine crescut e cea
mai mare avuţie) (Ibidem). In fact, the entire
collection proofs the importance children and
their education were gaining as a result of the
modernization process.
Although, the latter references are made to
a Transylvanian text whereas all the others were
from Romania, it does prove our point: that
during this period of time Romanian elites were
very deeply involved in the debate around
education. They made a real effort, under
different paths: first they insist on the parents‘
education as they were the ones to set the bases.
But a difference is being made in this case
between boys and girls education. The majority
of printed material addresses mainly to mothers.
This fact does not only reveal the important role
mothers are granted in their children‘s
education, but also the progress made by the
debate
around
women‘s
emancipation.
Secondly, they tried to change the educational
system by enlarging the opportunities of getting
into the system of institutionalized schools. They
also try to change it through the subject matters
taught in Romanian schools.
As a result of these efforts, a new educational model has emerged during the second half
of the XIX century. It is a more rationalized one,
a more modern one for several reasons: first,
because it involves the parents in the process
and secondly, because by child the elites mean
both boys and girls, who must gain an education
although, a gender differentiated one. Modern is
also the utility given to this new educational
model: it prepares the future citizens who must
respect and accomplish his/her social duties. All
the texts we had analyzed within the present
study are nothing else then a testimony of the
fact that nineteenth century was the age
witnessing the creation of a modern Romanian
man. Both men and women are subject of
transformation as G. L. Mosse stated in The
Image of Man. The Creation of Modern
Masculinity (Mosse 1998). The author
considered that although it is impossible to point
to a precise moment when the ideal of modern
masculinity was born and became part of
modern history... it happened sometimes
between the second half of the eighteen century
and the beginning of the nineteenth (Ibidem, 5).
We consider that the perception on children
underwent a similar process. Alain Bidaud
proved also through a historical analysis on the
evolution of the child shows that it is not a given
fact, eternal and unchangeable, but a social
product (Bidaud, 1985, 69). Thus he/she changes
and adapts to the society‘s evolution. The
modern child is definitely a consequence of the
changes registered by the society within the
modernization process it was going through. We
can definitely conclude that Romanian modern
child and the educational model specially
designed for him is the result of a similar
process. The assertion is supported by the books
and manuals analysed in this study. Moreover,
we must also stress the fact that this change was
caused also by the Western influence which
cannot be denied. Once again the previously
mentioned translations prove our statements.
The translations form I. H. Pestalozzi, How
Gertrude Teaches Her Children, for instance is a
good example in this sense. The text was well
received by Romanian intellectuals. It even
generated a debate over the educational model
developed by the author and reclaimed a reprint.
It was first published by Eniu L. Băltéanu in a
journal with the main objective the
enlightenment of the nation (Lumina 1886, 26).
The text was republished as a brochure few
years later, in 1898. The initiative belonged to
V. Gr. Borgovanu, a pedagogue who published a
critical edition and who stressed the utility of the
text for educating the future teachers
(Borgovanu 1898).
The change in the children‘s education as
well in what the perception of child in the
society is concerned is also due to the progresses
made at a scientific level: in medicine and its
new branches such as child care, paediatrics as
well as pedagogy. They explain the changing in
perception toward children although it is not
clear enough which is the cause and which is the
80
effect (Bidaud 72). The changing of perception
definitely contributed to the development of such
new scientific branches as well as the progress
of medical sciences influenced shaped the
attitude toward children (Ibidem). Romanian
society does not remain outside these changes
and progress registered at the scientific level. D.
Cantemir‘s book is a good example in this sense
as well as the pedagogy books which were quite
numerous (see for instance Bărnuţiu 1870).
There is a chronological gap between
Western and Romanian societies in the
perception of child, indeed. In West, for
instance, from around the middle of the eighteen
century there emerged a new perception which
attached greater importance to the young child
aged between three and seven (Luc 1990, 69).
Romanian society will try to recover this gap,
fact proven by the literature published during the
second half of the nineteenth century and by the
effort made by authorities in order to increase
the parents‘ level of consciousness towards child
care and education.
We should not exaggerate though: the
progress made by Romanian society in order to
create more careful parents and more educated
children has its limits. These are given by
several motives: the limited access to the
institutionalized educational system; the great
level of illiteracy within the Romanians which
turned into an obstacle against the process for
decreasing it. It is also a question of mentality,
of a certain opposition against allowing the
children to go to school. This fact is proven by
the content of the books addressing to parents, as
the one written by V. Gr. Borgovanu. It is also
explained through the texts which stress the
importance of educating the girls as they will
turn into mothers.
But the texts we had analyzed so far, and
it was just a selection that we did, prove another
important fact: Romanian intellectuals had a
deep concern for preserving the traditional
values of the nation. This explains the important
role played by religion and morality in
children‘s education. Religion is still an
important feature in the Romanian society
during the XIX century and it still has a great
influence on the parents-children relations. It
also explain the deep interest in giving the girls,
in the first place, a moral education in order to
make sure that the family will not be endangered
by modernity. As a result of their interest in the
nation‘s progress which could be achieved only
through education we are the witnesses of a new
educational model as well as of a new
perception on the child. It is not a revolutionary
change as the educational model is still a
compromise
between
tradition
and
modernisation. The school is the institution
designed for progress it will also be used now
for transmitting the nation‘s features together
with the parents whose duties are also
subordinated to the State‘s efforts for
modernization.
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Georgeta,
‗Astra‘s
Fodor
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the
Debate
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Fodor, Georgeta, ‗Romanian Women
Fodor
in the New Economic Context of the
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enfant_0013-7545_1990_num_43_
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Bărnuţiu
1870
Borgovanu
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Bărnuţiu, S., Pedagogia
[Pedagogy], Iaşi, Tipariulu
Tribunei Române, 1870.
Borgovanu V. Gr., I. H.
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1904
Buzoianu
1883
Cantemir
1877
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1882
Mosse 1998
Slavici 1897
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Gertruda copiii [How Gertrude
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Bălteanu), Bucuresci, Mod.
Gr. Luis Typography, 1898.
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şcoală [Ionel. Principles of
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and
Christian
Education], Sibiu, Iosif
Marschall, 1904.
Buzoianu George, Miculu
Scolaru. Carte de lectura cu
privire la calitatile si defectele copiiloru [The Little
School Boy] Prelucratu din
franţuzeşte, Craiova, S.
Samitca, 1883.
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copiilor [Hygiene Advice
for
Raising
Children],
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Neamţ, 1877.
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Citire pentru Formarea
Moravurilor
fiiloru
si
fiicelor crestine [A Reading
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and Daughters], Bucureşti,
Stefan
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Mosse G. L., The Image of
Man. The Creation of
Modern
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Oxford University Press,
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Slavici Ioan, Poveţe pentru
buna creştere a copiilor.
Partea I. Noţiuni de etică şi
de estetică [Good growth
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―Soluţia lui Spiru Haret la chesAlbulescu
tiunea ţărănească. Progresul
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social prin educaţie în spaţiul
rural românesc‖ [Spiru Haret‘s
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Rural World] in Schimbare şi
devenire în Istoria României.
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Ioan Bolovan, Sorina Paula
Bolovan, Cluj-Napoca, 2008, p.
473-479.
Fodor
Georgeta,
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the 19th Century Transylvania.
European Patterns‘. In Carmen
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Corina
Teodor,
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82
Multispeed Modernization in Interwar Romania. On Decadence and
Complexes of a Peripheral Province – Norhtern Moldavia
Anca FILIPOVICI
PhD in History, Babeş-Bolyai University, Cluj-Napoca, Romania
E-mail: anca.filipovici@yahoo.com
Abstract. Romanian culture faced over time its own decadences manifested as cultures of negation.
Nor the Romanian interwar was protected by the shadow of decline, despite of the today‘s perception on
the period as one of absolute glory. The feeling of decline is felt especially at the periphery and is
manifested on economic and political level, but also through the voices of some provincial intellectuals,
creators and animators of the local culture. In Moldavia, the phenomenon is associated to a specific
notion borrowed from the Italian culture: ‗Moldavian crepuscularism‘ as a specific form of decadentism.
In other words, we refer to the condition of minority allocated to peripheral regions, generating a
provincial complex expressed in the context of excessive centralization imposed from Bucharest on all
levels of social life.
Keywords: northern Moldavia, creative localism, provincial complex, modernization, decadentism
‗Decadence is a gift of modernity‘, says
Pierre Chaunu in his exegetical journey through
periods of decline over time (Chaunu 1995, 52).
A gift that history does not receive with open
arms, for this ‗phenomena of nostalgia‘ occurs
during a decline or disequilibrium, as a
transition from progress to regress. We consider
here two types of antithetical modernity: on the
one hand, the bourgeois modernity as a phase in
the history of Western civilization, linked to the
progress through science and technology and to
the transformations of capitalism; on the other
hand, we speak about modernity as an aesthetic
notion with radical antibourgeois trends,
showing an overt disgust to the values of the
middle class, from anarchist standpoints or from
an aristocratic exile (Călinescu 2005, 52). Such a
modernity fighting its own crisis gives birth to
avant-gardes and decadences. In terms of
aesthetic, decadence shows up in the 19th
century, as reverse side of progress. Its
manifestation is especially noticed in the
decadent literature from France.
Romanian culture has also its own
decadences manifested as cultures of negation.
Nor the Romanian interwar was protected by the
shadow of decline, despite of the today‘s
perception on the period as one of absolute
glory. The feeling of decline is felt especially at
the periphery and is manifested through the
voices of some provincial intellectuals, creators
and animators of a local culture (1). In Moldavia,
the phenomenon is associated to a specific
notion borrowed from the Italian culture:
‗Moldavian crepuscularism‘ as a specific form
of decadentism (Mitchievici 2011, 27). In other
words, we refer to the condition of cultural
minority allocated to peripheral regions,
generating a provincial complex expressed in the
context of interwar excessive centralization
imposed from Bucharest on all levels of social
life.
1918 Union reaches an old goal by
coagulating the Romanian provinces in a nationstate, doubling the territory and population and
conferring the possibility of making the
Romanian voice heard on the world stage. From
the national perspective, the gain is undoubtedly
enormous. Furthermore, the union itself without
a subsequent unification would have been
incomplete. Therefore, the tool for this purpose
was
the
centralization
on
political,
administrative, institutional and cultural level.
The imposed harmonization often held in a
tense, that of an antagonistic networking
between center (the Capital) and peripheries (the
provinces). The provincial complex in Moldavia
(1) In Romanian literature, French decadentism is
taken at first by translations, then proposing its
own lyric and prose, with an ambiguous impact on
critics that often associate this trend with
symbolism. Main directions of this current
approach themes like artificiality, sickness and
rejection of modernity in a pessimistic note.
83
had though earlier origins, which preceded
another union – that of 1859 – shifting the pole
of the political power from Iaşi to Bucharest. If
Iaşi gradually erodes its fame, yet retaining the
status of the main city of Moldavia, the northern
part of the region feels increasingly slighted.
This status is perpetuated after the 1918 Union,
when northern Moldavia seems incapable of
exceeding the condition of ‗the place where
nothing happened‘.
Capital, whose image described in an article
from Intellectual Work Week, at the beginning of
1924, seemed not so different from that of a
provincial town: ‗This city is endless ugly. Look
at all the streets full of some special kind of clay,
look to the passengers dirty to their neck in mud,
splashed by cars like sprinklers, barely dragging
their coats and rubbers. […] Ten times downs
the man from the sidewalk to go around a pit
with water gushing up again immediately so as
he doesn‘t get crushed by a car‘ (Pârvulescu
2003, 112). Paved and lighted streets, wide
boulevards, imposing buildings, bohemian cafes
and shiny shops contrast with dirty ugly suburbs.
Extremely suggestive is the picture described by
a Berliner photographer in 1939, capturing the
mélange of West and Orient when crossing
Brătianu Boulevard in Bucharest. Thus, till the
Brătianu Market the image seems ‗imported
from America. Not only the skyscrapers, but
also the automotive shops, elegant gas stations,
hotels, theaters and streets give this impression.‘
After crossing the market, ‗this axis cutting
Bucharest from north to south is dominated by
the oriental look. There are also blocks, but the
specific note is provided by the long strings of
carpets merchants hang on groove‘ (Pârvulescu
2003, 114). Discrepancies between cities and
villages, between downtown and suburbs,
between cities and provincial towns sketch a
Romanian society of contrasts on different
levels.
In the 30s, urban area covered about 20 %
of the population, half of which concentrated in
the 20 major cities. Along with the development
of industry, trade, transport and services, the
influx of people from rural to urban has
contributed massively to the growth of urban
population, Bucharest being the most significant
case in this respect. Capital became a complex
structure controlling and influencing the rest of
the country. Other urban centers, including the
provincial towns with 5 000-30 000 inhabitants,
developed institutional structures being the
proper space for cultural life.
North-Moldavian cities do not appear
with the intention of acting as complex urban
centers, but develop initially as towns at the
crossroads of trade routes. Since its formation, in
the 15th century, and until the First World War,
Botoşani acquires major industrial and economic
functions. However, after 1916, the trade
becomes rural and the industry decades, the
main destabilizing factor being the Capital‘s
decision of not connecting the town to the main
railway nodes (Tufescu 1938, 516). Although it
appears as an upgrading element for road
Was there Moldavia once ‘the place where
everything happened’?
At the turn of the 19th century, Romanian
society begins to take small steps towards
modernization, reflected mainly by the process
of urbanization. Imposing administrative
buildings, theaters, schools and other cultural
institutions, public roads, streets and gardens
were built in the central areas of cities, following
the Westerns architectural models, but in a high
contrast with the shabby homes in the suburbs.
The capital benefits of the most important
edifices becoming a space of reference for the
urban modernization (Georgescu, Velicu 2009,
13). However, the image of a modern Bucharest
with cobbled streets was not to be found in the
provinces where cities changed their appearance
in a much slower pace. Marked differences
between the Capital and provincial towns and
also between the central part of towns and
suburbs without sewage system or lightning
installation confer the image of a discrepant
space to the Romanian society of the time.
Undoubtedly, the contrast is even striking
between urban and rural areas, Romanian
villages being trapped in an archaic world,
undisturbed by modernization. The first signs of
modernization throughout Moldavia occur in
early 19th century, at fairly low level. The data
provided by researches indicate significant
differences between the city of Suceava
suffering consequences of the 1775 land
division, or Dorohoi, with an urbanization rate
of 4% and Botoşani city with an urbanization
rate of over 30%. The period 1821-1860 seems
to be prolific for the mountain towns of northern
Moldavia that benefit from the developing of
mining and wood industry, the level of
urbanization exceeding 35%. In contrast,
between 1860 and 1948, despite all
transformations, the average level of the country
exceeds constantly the level of urbanization in
Moldavia (Ungureanu 1980, 35).
Modernization begins to show its first
signs around the cities, especially in the central
area. The early stage was also common for the
84
structure, the development of railways proved
unfavorable for Botoşani which at this time will
be isolated in a continuing economic downturn.
The landmarks of prestige in this northern corner
are signaled by the four coryphaeus: Eminescu,
Iorga,
Enescu,
Luchian.
Their
deprovincialization by leaving the native places for
good and their fame across the country or abroad
deepened the sense of inertia in postwar
Botoşani and also the provincial complex for
those intellectuals who chose to activate locally,
especially from the cultural press stage.
19th century Dorohoi appears with clean,
neat suburbs, like a well-kept village (Xenopol
1910, 44), while, after the war, the faith of the
town seems to follow that of neighboring
Botoşani, looking as ‗a shabby city which hardly
deserves city status, but who apparently starts to
wake up, especially by school and intellectual
activity‘ (Simionescu 1925, 125).
In Fălticeni, town of Baia County, we find
the same atmosphere: ‗city buried in quite,
forgotten by the world‘, ‗where the numb souls
of locals could revive‘ (Ibidem, 134). With a
population, in 1930, of more than 14000
inhabitants, the small town remained part of
Moldavia province after the annexation of
Bukovina, representing a refuge for Romanians
who refused Austrian rule. An agricultural area
with underdeveloped industry, shrouded in a
silence favorable for creation, Fălticeni was the
desirable place for the intellectual formation of
personalities like Eugen Lovinescu, Mihail
Sadoveanu, Arthur Gorovei or Marcel Blecher.
At the turn of 19th-20th century, Suceava
had a modern look, influenced by the Austrian
architectural style, but also preserving Romanian
traditions. The city represented a ‗center of
Romanianism‘ in relation to a Czernowitz too
concentrated with ‗the formalism of everyday.‘
(Ibidem, 242) With a multi-ethnic population
engaged in agricultural area, Suceava lived in
the same numb atmosphere characteristic for
northern Moldavia. However, a very rich
cultural activity played an important role within
schools and cultural societies.
Rădăuţi, Siret, Câmpulung Moldovenesc,
Gura Humorului – look all oppressive and
decadent. What we generic call as ‗culture‘ was
the string northern Moldavia used for getting out
of the shadow and making its voice heard.
Without holding a university, such as the one
from Iaşi, north-Moldavian area noted through a
network of secondary schools around which
cultural mobilization of local intellectuals
manifested constantly. If slow pace of change
fully characterizes this provincial corner,
cultural activities seem to be the only
mechanism for getting out of the mist of time.
Provincial cultural production in northern
Moldavia, between ‘creative localism’ and
‘crepuscularism’
In most cases, provincial identity defines
itself under the spectrum of complexes of
periphery and through a negative comparison to
the decadent center. The background of these
complexes stands in comparing two unequal
entities. On the other hand, ascertaining
inferiority
doesn‘t
generate
complexes
automatically, but proves a lucid self-criticism.
A source of this state is the awareness of
weakness, the feeling of unreachable giving rise
to resentment (Martin 2002, 32). Speaking of
Romanian literature as literature at the incipient
stage, Mircea Martin argues that the provincial
isolation – geographical, temporal or linguistic –
determines a series of complexes manifested
naturally (1). Adrian Marino also talked about
‗the Dinicu Golescu complex‘ with reference to
the substantial economic and cultural differences
comparing to the West (Ibidem, 20).
Furthermore, provincialism manifests at
different scales. The role of periphery and center
is translated on several levels: from East to
West, from capital to province, from rural to
urban, from suburbs to downtown area etc. The
literature of a province – in this case, Moldavian
province – suffers from this load of complexes
when comparing to the writings from the
Capital.
What are the bases on which we plead for
a reading of the peripheral traditional creation
thorough the modernist grid of decadentism?
The note of decadentism for these writings is
translated by asserting own values in tandem
with the rejection of what the Capital imposes;
denunciation of the Capital‘s morals; accusing
the central literature of promiscuity and
ignorance of peripherals. In fact, this is also the
slope of sliding (the slipping) of the traditional
semănătorism towards decadentism: promoting
tradition and a healthy rural in antithesis with a
decadent, urban, capitalist and aggressive
modernity. Decadentism becomes the occasion
for revealing contrasts and for manifesting a
(1) Mircea Martin analyses the following ‗literary
complexes‘: the complex of delay; the complex of
discontinuity; the complex of the rural; the
complex of the continuous beginning; the
complex of imitation; the complex of the absence
of the top names; the complex of the lack of
audience; the complex in front of the critics.
85
Any return of the ‗illustrious‘ is always
perceived with enthusiasm and nostalgia for a
fame surrounding the area which disappears
with the completion of the visit. In his memoirs,
the writer Eugen Pohonţu, former student of
Laurian High school from Botoşani, remembers
a visit of the historian Nicolae Iorga at the
school he also graduated. After a triumphant
reception, the students remain fascinated by a
man perceived beyond genius. The fact that
Iorga studied at the same high school intensifies
the mirage, but also the oppressive atmosphere
after the guest‘s departure: ‗I lived, as a high
school student, the Iorga myth and mirage. For
our young generation he was more than a
superman. He was an idol, because a superman,
however high he may be, can be reached and
even surpassed by other. We felt Iorga out of
any possibility of being outdone by anyone.
Impossible of taken as a model, we sat him in
our soul with extreme admiration‘ (Analele
Bucovinei 2000, 541).
The
reference
to
the
leading
personalities and the desire to overcome the
provincial condition also occur in a note signed
by the Laurian High school alumni association:
‗Of course, in the secret chamber of our heart we
worship those who, by the brilliance of their
culture, adorn the gate of European orient, but,
turning our eyes around, we don‘t overlook
those who swarm here, in this quite town, as we
do. […] We are convinced that this proud
country is not only the work of genius,
scientists, wise philosophers and victorious
generals, but is also the result of those who work
with obstinacy, with devotion, supporting the
state building‘ (Revista Moldovei 1924, 49).
Even if the provincial intellectual
realizes his importance in the overall process for
the evolution of society, the discourse transpires
a certain degree of inferiority, especially when
he relates himself to the intellectual from the
Capital. The self-perception of the provincial
intellectual playing the role of a regionalist
writer is depicted by C. D. Fortunescu in an
article about the reviews from provinces: ‗If he
is really an intellectual, not an employer with a
pen – he is interested in what it is written also in
Bucharest and in the province, his spirit not
being so professionally deformed that he would
consider the Capital the umbilicus mundi of the
Romanian mind […] the provincial man of
letters lets himself less influenced by the
changing patterns and cliques of Bucharest […]
being more studious, unrushed, capable of
choosing himself and descending into his own
soul in search for originality which so many
contemplative nostalgia of periphery opposing
modernity.
The cultural press and writings in interwar
northern Moldavia follow two main directions:
some prints cover topics and trend from the
central media. Other exploit the local, with the
literary tools circumscribed to a ‗delayed
semănătorism‘ promoted in interwar period by
Nicolae Iorga (1). Many works of northMoldavian authors were being published in
journals sponsored by Iorga, following the
traditionalistic principles of recovering tradition
by invoking the idyllicism of rural life and the
glory of the national past, rejecting, in the same
time, the urban civilization. Perhaps it‘s no
coincidence that the Moldavian novels
representative for the ‗crepuscular‘ creation
belong to Mihail Sadoveanu (Locul unde nu s-a
întâmplat nimic) [The place where nothing
happened] and Ionel Teodoreanu (La Medeleni)
[At Medeleni], de-provincialized Moldavian
authors from Iaşi area. Frescoes of patriarchal
society, the novels reveal the nostalgia of a
world unadapt to modernity – the peasantry –
and of a world that is denied any chance to adapt
– the old nobility. Returning to the northern
area, Moldavian ‗crepuscularism‘ is shaped on
several coordinates.
Going through the press and memoires of
some intellectuals from this region, we find out
that the creators of the province cling often to
the fame of personalities born there, but deprovincialized. The fame of the ‗uprooted‘ acute
the silence remaining behind them and the
complex of periphery that gave the world great
names, but failed to remove itself from the
shadow. Such complexes occur along with
exaggerated reductions or augmentations of
proportions. Some articles from the local
interwar press drawing attention to the harsh
situation of province begin by invoking the high
class personalities originating in the area: ‗what
city of the Romanian country has a past as
glorious as the city of Eminescu?‘ Such a fact
should be a source of regeneration for the city
like Botoşani ‗who did not sin at all to be
forsaken‘ (Drimer 1935, 2).
(1) Junimea Moldovei de Nord, Revista Moldovei,
Moldova literară, Tudor Pamfile, Revistă de
limbă, literatură şi artă literară, Şezătoarea.
Revistă pentru literatură şi tradiţiuni populare,
Junimea literară, Făt-Frumos, Freamătul literar,
Muguri, Înmuguriri. Revistă literară, artisticăsocială, Vestitorul satelor, Tinerimii. Organ de
cultură al Societăţii ‘Tinerimea’, Îndrumarea,
Orion, Pană literară, Iconar etc.
86
thought to find in the neighbor‘s backyard‘
(Fortunescu 33, 2).
With all this arsenal of more or less
objective attributes, the local creator is
subsidiary of the center imposing cultural
values, and although these values concern him,
he cannot influence them, his presence being
either ignored, or treaded with condescendence.
The literature from the periphery is
another
coordinate
of
the
Moldavian
‗crepuscularism‘ built around the complexes.
Relevant in this context is the literary review
from Suceava, Făt-Frumos, edited since 1926
under the leadership of Leca Morariu, one of the
most
vocal
supporters
of
province‘s
individuality. Focused on promoting the local
folk creation, the review stigmatized from the
beginning the ‗mystification‘ of modern
literature feeding ‗the cult of pride‘ and ‗selfworship‘ (Morariu 1926,1). The publication
define itself as a ‗weapon‘ of ‗Romanian
authenticity‘ fighting against the snobbery of the
Capital. For instance, in a chronic of an article
appeared in Ţara de Jos, Morariu disagrees one
author‘s claim that provincial reviews –
including Făt-Frumos from Suceava – try to
copy the writing style from Bucharest, without
playing the spirit of the region: ‗They say, for
instance, nothing from the regional folklore in
the Făt-Frumos of Suceava whose only constant
concern is to get closer to the level of Bucharest
reviews! […] He should leave us alone, Mister
N. N. Vasiliu from Bucharest, with his level […]
our regionalism […] doesn‘t need, doesn‘t need,
doesn‘t need that mentioned level!‘ (Morariu
1927, 24-25).
Travelling
Moldavia
towards
the
Bukovinean counties, we find samples of
creative localism conferring other values to the
provincial complexes. We refer here to the
Iconar group, created in 1931 in Rădăuţi and
moved five years later in Czernowitz. Iconarism
defined itself as ‗Moldavian gothic‘ opposed to
aesthetics and modernism from Christian-ethic
views and it was generated by a series of
grievances manifested within a complex of
periphery somehow different from that one of
the north-Moldavian cities from the Old
Kingdom. After the 1918 Union, the writers
from Bukovina showed a sense of superiority,
overshadowed by marginalization, by the lack of
a well-strengthen Romanian tradition in a multiethnic space and by the presence of foreigners
perceived as enemies (Diaconu 1999, 21). In
such an atmosphere, maybe the xenophobic and
anti-Semitic tendencies should not surprise. The
language practiced by this literary movement
was also pretty violent, especially when
expressing the support for the Iron Guard. The
program of the movement is edited in 1934 and
pleads for regionalism and for the emancipation
of Bukovina out of Bucharest publishing houses.
The authors from Iconar shared their belief that
the province is ‗the only way to salvation of the
ethnic being and the path for rebirth of the
original patterns‘ (Ibidem, 83). Thus in the pages
of the Iconar review from 1935-1937 there are
creations pursuing the recovery of the provincial
values, but also articles and legionary praises
signed by local authors and also by writers from
the Capital: Radu Gyr, Nae Ionescu, Mircea
Eliade, Emil Cioran, Ion Marin, Vasile Moţa etc
(Niculică 2006).
Revealing these samples of ‗crepuscular‘
creation we do not intend to throw all the
provincial writings under the ‗yoke‘ of
complexes. Without any doubt, masking the
differences between Capital and peripheries was
the appanage of many local personalities trying
to create a bridge between northern Moldavia
and Bucharest. We must mention here Ion
Nistor, historian and unionist militant from
Bukovina, and George Tofan, editors of Junimea
literară. Published since 1904, the review
followed the line of semănătorism promoting
Romanian culture and the awakening of national
consciousness in the front of the ‗black-yellow
spirit‘ symbolized by the Austrian rule (Nistor
1923, 1). Since its inception, the review intended
to create a true literary movement with known
authors like I.G. Sbiera, Simeon Florea Marian,
T.V. Stefanelli, Sextil Puşcariu and the youngers
Victor Morariu, Gabriel Rotică, Ion Grămadă,
Traian Brăileanu, Dimitrie Marmeliuc etc. After
the war, local intellectuals make efforts to
reactivate the publication whose first number
appears in 1923 with the hope of soul unification
through culture of all inhabitants from
Bukovina. This time, the program added a new
goal: ‗We want to be the organ of an intellectual
and spiritual connection between periphery and
center, striving to spread here the Romanian
culture and to enrich it with our literary
productions‘ (Ibidem, 6). The movement around
the liberal Ion Nistor intended to be consistent
with cultural activities from the Capital, while
the creative localism developed within the
review was not so touched by the provincial
complex. Actually, Nistor always rejected the
idea of regionalism, pleading for unification at
all levels and believing that emphasizing the
local values does not express regionalist
tendencies.
87
The problem of the provincial complex
and the efforts for overcoming this statute was
also frequently approached by the liberal
newspaper Glasul Bucovinei, although the paper
always rejected any claims of regionalism,
promoting integration and unification. From the
cultural stand point, Glasul Bucovinei
encouraged local culture, advocating for the
asserting of a new provincial literature that
couldn‘t pierce the shadow: ‗It‘s true, our young
writers work much, perhaps more than they
work in other annexed provinces, but the result
of their labor is not known. […] With so many
writers, and some real talented ones, real
encyclopedic spirits, we cannot remain without a
real literature‘ (Putneanu 1933, 3).
In a review on a poetry anthology, the
writer George Drumur from northern Moldavia
praises poetry in this corner of the country, but
blaming the attitude of ‗various failed critics,
housed at the mercy of various publishers from
Bucharest which print lately a fantastic scrap‘
(Drumur 1934, 2). We see here two paradoxical
attitudes: the assertion of superiority in relation
to the center dealing with a complex generated
by ignorance and unfounded critics. The
explanation of an erroneous reception of the
creation from this province is taught to be
conferred by the unique regional identity:
‗…northern affinities in Bukovina form the
border point between Orientalism, Byzantine in
shape, Oltenia and Muntenia. Hence the
repugnance for everything that is Bukovina
which indicates that the millennial dream of
union is more territorial…‘ (Ibidem).
lifting the marginalized provinces by means of
culture. For this reason, local dictionaries and
monographs promotes its intellectuality often
apologetic, while, at the center, local creation is
reviewed with condescendence. This is just one
pillar explaining that modernization and
unification had different speeds within the same
borders and that for every gain there is always a
reverse.
References
Analele Bucovinei [Bukovina’s
Analele
Annals], VII, no. 2, 2000.
Bucovinei
2000
Drimer, Carol, ‗Weimarul
Drimer
culturii româneşti‘ [Weimar of
1935
Romanian Culture]. In Ştirea
[The News], VII, no. 266, 1935.
Drumur, George, ‗Cronici
Drumur
literare‘ [Literary Chronicles].
1934
In Glasul Bucovinei [The Voice
of Bukovina], XVII, no. 4263,
1934.
Fortunescu, C. D., ‗Reviste de
Fortunescu
provincie‘
[Provincial
1933
Reviews]. In Provincia literară
[Literary Province], I, no. 4-5,
1933.
Morariu Leca, ‗Poliţie literară!‘
Morariu
[Literary Police!]. In Făt1926
Frumos [Prince Charming] I,
no. 1, 1926.
‗Regionalism şi capitalism‘
Morariu
[Regionalism and Capitalism].
1927
In
Făt-Frumos
[Prince
Charming] II, no. 3, 1927.
Nistor 1923 Nistor, I., ‗După nouă ani de
zile‘ [After Nine Years]. In
Junimea Literară, XII, no. 1-2,
1923.
Putneanu,
Aurel,
‗Simple
Putneanu
prezumţii‘
[Simple
1933
Assumptions].
In
Glasul
Bucovinei [The Voice of
Bukovina], XVI, no. 4045,
1933.
Revista Moldovei [Review of
Revista
Moldavia] IV, no. 3-4-5, 1924.
Moldovei
1924
Tufescu, Victor, ‗Oraş în
Tufescu
declin: Botoşanii‘ [A City in
1938
Decline:
Botoşani].
In
Sociologie
românească
[Romanian Sociology] III, no.
10-12, 1938.
Conclusions
An overview on interwar north-Moldavian
creation reveals undoubtedly its minor character.
Intellectual production in the province limits
itself especially to the literary or opinion press.
Press enjoys constant attention from about 60
names who sign constantly in the interwar
decades. The following area for northMoldavian creators is lyrics and prose, although
the relevance of these writings according to the
literary criticism is not that high: out of 121
creators we have counted only 50 appear in main
Romanian anthologies, while the other 71 are
listed only in local or regional dictionaries
(Filipovici 2012, manuscript).
Romanian literature and science is
propelled by the work of great creators who
manage to become landmarks of the national
culture. Creative localism, in its crepuscular
note, contributes to strengthening this culture,
especially by constructing a local identity and
88
Xenopol
1910
Xenopol A. D., ‗Oraşul
Dorohoi cu prilejul conferinţei
mele‘ [Dorohoi City on the
Ocasion of my Conferences]. In
Noua revistă română [New
Romanian Review] no. 4, 1910.
Pârvulescu
2003
Simionescu
1925
Books:
Chaunu1995 Chaunu, Pierre, Istorie şi decadenţă
[History
and
Decadence], Cluj- Napoca,
Clusium, 1994.
Călinescu, Matei, Cinci feţe ale
Călinescu
modernităţii.
Modernism,
2005
avangardă, decadenţă, kitsch,
postmodernism, [Five Faces of
Modernity. Modernism, Avantgarde, Decadence, Kitsch,
Postmodernism] 2nd edition,
Iaşi, Polirom, 2005.
Diaconu, Mircea A., Mişcarea
Diaconu
‘Iconar’. Literatură şi politică
1999
în Bucovina anilor 30 [‘Iconar’
Movement. Literature and
Politics in 30s Bukovina], Iaşi,
Time Publishing House, 1999.
Martin 2002 Martin, Mircea, G. Călinescu şi
‘complexele’ literaturii române
[G.
Călinescu
and
the
‘Complexes’ of the Romanian
Literature], 2nd edition, Piteşti,
Paralela 45, 2002.
Mitchievici Angelo, Decadenţă
Mitchievici
şi decadentism în contextul
2011
modernităţii
româneşti
şi
europene [Decadence and
Decadentism in the Context of
Romanian and
European
Modernity],
Bucureşti,
Editura
Curtea
Veche, 2011.
Niculică, Alis, Bibliografia
Niculică
Bucovinei. Iconar. Cernăuţi
2006
1935-1937 [Bibliography of
Bukovina. Iconar. Czernowitz
1935-1937]
Suceava,
Biblioteca Bucovinei ‗I. G.
Ungureanu
1980
Sbiera‘, 2006.
Pârvulescu, Ioana, Întoarcere
în
Bucureştiul
interbelic
[Return in Interwar Bucharest],
Simionescu, Ion, Oraşe din
România. Cu 62 figuri [Cities
from Romania. With 62
Figures], Bucureşti, Cartea
Românească, 1925.
Ungureanu, Al., Oraşele din
Moldova. Studiu de geografie
economică [Cities in Moldova.
Economic Geography Studies],
Bucureşti, R.S.R. Academy,
1980.
Chapters in books:
Florin,
Velicu,
Georgescu, Georgescu,
Velicu 2009 Raluca, ‗Arhitectură şi clădiri
publici în Vechiul Regat‘
[Architecture
and
Public
Buildings in Old Kingdom]. In:
***, Oraşele României. O istorie
în imagini. Sfârşitul secolului
XIX – începutul secolului XX
[Romanian Cities. A history in
Pictures. Late 19th CenturyEarly 20th Century], Târgovişte,
Cetatea de Scaun, 2009.
Unpublished thesis:
Filipovici
Anca,
Filipovici
Intelectualitatea interbelică din
2012
nordul Moldovei [Interwar
manuscript
Intellectuality from Northern
Moldavia] (2012) Cluj-Napoca,
Thesis (manuscript).
89
Two Patriarchs in Jerusalem (1927)
Valeria SOROŞTINEANU
Associate professor, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University of Sibiu, Romania
E-mail: valeria.sorostineanu@ulbsibiu.ro
Abstract. The pilgrimage of the first Romanian Patriarch, Miron Cristea, in 1927, to Jerusalem,
exceeded the characteristics of a protocol visit, as it also meant an evaluation of the position of the
Romanian Orthodox Church after 1918. Although it did not benefit from a large scale promotion – except
for the detailed account on the pilgrimage published in the Biserica Ortodoxă Română [The Romanian
Orthodox Church] periodical – its significance was indisputable. The most representative aspects were
those regarding the situation of the Romanian Orthodoxy after the instalment – in 1925 – of the
Romanian Patriarchy, the involvement of the first Patriarch, Miron Cristea, in promoting an open attitude
of the Orthodox towards the Protestant and Anglican churches as well as a re-evaluation of the traditional
and profound connections to the Eastern Christianity, the latter having constantly benefitted from
Romanian (especially material) support. The pilgrimage to the Holy Land was assessed not only in terms
of personal experience but also through the context in which the Romanian community was expected to
be represented – especially in Jerusalem – as well as the rest of the Christian communities through a
church and a shelter for Romanian pilgrims. Just as in the case of the Patriarchate of Constantinople – on
behalf of which he pleaded against the authoritarian tendencies of Mustafa Kemal‘s Turkish state – in
Jerusalem, Miron Cristea advocated for the need that the traditional Eastern Patriarchates should support
– in a modern way – the Greek cultural superiority in the foundation of the old Byzantium. He argued
however that this should only concern the dogma and not the perpetual affirmation of the importance of
the Greek element at the expense of other Orthodox communities.
Keywords: Orthodox Church, pilgrimage, Orthodoxy, Jerusalem, Romanian believers
Miron Cristea‘s (1868-1939) appointment
as Metropolitan-Primate of the Orthodox Church
of Romania was an open and clear manifestation
of the new realities offered by the Greater
Romania (in Romanian România Mare) and a
symbol of the latter. Born in Transylvania
(Topliţa/Harghita), he first became known there,
both within the church and due to his publishing
and literary work, but most of all for being a
supporter of the Romanian cause.The future
Patriarch of Romania had several attributions,
which subsequently recommended him for the
positions he later held: secretary of the
Metropolitan Bishop Miron Romanul, Bishop of
Caransebeş (1910-1918), Metropolitan-Primate
of Romania (1919-1925), elected in 1919 as an
honorary member of the Romanian Academy.
The Romanian Orthodox Church became a
Patriarchy in 1925, and Miron Cristea became
the first Patriarch, also initiating the opening of
the Romanian Orthodox Church towards the
Protestant world, as one of the founders of the
ecumenical movement (establishing close
relations with the Anglican Church). He
advocated for cordial relations between all the
Orthodox Churches and for maintaining the
Orthodox Patriarchate in Constantinople. In
politics, however, he was not equally successful,
as during his regency (1927-1930) and his time
as prime minister during King Carol II‘s
personal authority regime (1938-1939), his
contemporaries accused Cristea of supporting
the negative implications of the anti-Semitic
legislation promoted by the Goga-Cuza
government.
Although it started as a diplomatic
response to the visit of Patriarch Damianos of
Jerusalem in Romania in 1924, Patriarch Miron
Cristea‘s pilgrimage to the Holy Land (May 22June 4, 1927) exceeded a custom protocol visit,
being turned into an evaluation of the situation
of the Orthodox Church in general and of the
Eastern Orthodoxy in particular.
His pilgrimage had a mixed character,
both diplomatic and private, but many times it
exceeded the official implications of his visit.
Dedicating a substantial study to Patriarch
Damianos‘ visit to Bucharest, Archimandrite
Iuliu Scriban warned that – in the new context
following 1918 – the Romanian Orthodox
Church felt more entitled to advocate for the
Orthodox faith, which belonged ‗generally to us
90
and we have to be interested in it and cherish it
even when it passes the borders of Romania‘.
However, precisely in order to manifest itself in
the above mentioned manner, the Romanian
Orthodox Church took upon itself a new, more
active role (Scriban 1924).
Considered to have been a time of great
achievements,
particularly
through
the
instalment of the Romanian Patriarchy in 1925,
the interwar period was one of initiatives on
behalf of the Romanian Orthodox Church,
among them the efforts to support the traditional
Eastern Orthodox Patriarchies. This placed the
former in a significant position, including in its
relations with the Patriarchate of Constantinople.
We must however mention that the new image,
more dynamic, of the Romanian Orthodox
Church as well as the obvious weakness of some
of the Eastern Patriarchies did not result in the
expected balance.
The years of crisis during the conflict
between Greece and Turkey meant a difficult
period, not only regarding the two countries, but
also for them in relation to the Patriarchate of
Constantinople,
this
requiring
several
international conferences – of which the most
important was that organised in Lausanne – in
order to clarify the problems, namely territorial,
between the two countries. At the above
mentioned conference, the Romanian Minister
of Foreign Affairs, I.G. Duca interceded - at
Miron Cristea‘s request and benefiting from the
support of the U.K. – in favour of the Greeks‘
claims not to have the Orthodox Patriarchate of
Constantinople relocated and, as a result, the
Patriarch Meletios IV officially expressed his
thanks (Abrudeanu 1929, 315-317).
Thus, the location of the Patriarchate
remained there since the Turks had the situation
under control anyway. The latter also manifested
benevolence towards establishing cordial
diplomatic relations, including with Romania.
Besides this context of the conflict taking place
in Asia Minor between Greece and Turkey, we
must add that the diminishing of the prestige of
the Patriarchate of Constantinople took place
after the transformation of tsarist Russia into the
Soviet Union (Petcu 2009, 206).
Since in the period of 1917-1925 the
Patriarchate of Constantinople was in a very
vulnerable position and the voice of Russian
Orthodoxy had been silenced by the Bolshevik
regime, Miron Cristea triggered an action plan
that sought to impose, instead, the Romanian
Orthodoxy in supporting the cause of Orthodoxy
itself at the official level (Plămădeală 1987, 349350).
The year 1925 also meant the celebration
of 1600 years since the First Nicaea Ecumenical
Council, and the European Christian Churches,
especially the Protestant and the Anglican
Churches, along with the Orthodox Church, held
at London a Congress for the reassessment of
the importance of the First Ecumenical Council.
This generated a broad ecumenical movement, a
noble idea in itself, but especially complicated
due to the time required to clarify and achieve
joint Christian church reunification actions.
Becoming a Patriarch in 1925, Miron Cristea
had already initiated fruitful relations with the
Protestant areas, being the first Romanian
hierarch who visited England and the first
initiator of the ecumenical movement in the
Orthodox area.
Along with Metropolitan Nicolae Bălan of
Transylvania – also a supporter of this cause attended or sent delegates to the ecumenical
conferences organised since 1920 at Chicago
and Geneva, and followed by the better known
ones that took place in London and Stockholm
in 1925 (Plămădeală 1987, 47).
Besides the debates that took place in
London, the Christian congress organised in
Stockholm generated what is now officially
known as the ecumenical movement, and among
the other initiators we must not forget to
mention again the Romanian Patriarch Miron
Cristea.
Although pleased with the Romanian
representatives‘ contributions at these first
ecumenical conferences, Cristea believed that
the Orthodox world should review its discourse
about society and, moreover, take a stand against
its problems. That is why he answered
enthusiastically to the idea of organising an
ecumenical pan-Orthodox council.
Although in general the Orthodox world
has always appeared to be connected to an
immutable tradition, one must say that in the
context described above the Romanian Orthodox
Church established a number of issues to be
discussed and reviewed at a potential
ecumenical Orthodox council: the calendar, the
adaptation of the religious service to the needs
of the churches and the revision of fasting, also
the remarriage of widowed priests, the
reassessment of the relations between all the
Orthodox Churches, as well as the emergence of
common institutions to serve the cause of
Orthodoxy
and
raising
the
Orthodox
monasticism to its ‗former glory‘ (Plămădeală
1987, 20).
Miron Cristea‘s intentions went however
beyond all these plans, significant as they were.
91
the writing, in 1642 – by Petru Movilă of Kiev –
of the Orthodox Confession of Faith, in the
presence of Prince Vasile Lupu and
Metropolitan Varlaam, in a time when the
Protestant Church wanted to win on its side
more territories besides Transylvania. At the
above mentioned celebrations, the Patriarchate
of Constantinople chose only to send delegates,
while the other Eastern patriarchs, of Alexandria
and of Jerusalem, later expressed their interest in
visiting Romania (Abrudeanu 1929, 419-420).
There have also been successful attempts
to establish friendly relations between the
Patriarchate of Constantinople and two of the
Orthodox churches: one, the Bulgarian Orthodox
Church, having been considered schismatic for a
long time, and the other, the Albanian Orthodox
Church, being a newly founded one. However,
despite their importance, these contributions did
not receive the expected recognition (Petcu,
2009, 203-204, Dron 1926).
Between the visit of Patriarch Damianos
of Jerusalem in Romania in 1924 and Miron
Cristea‘s pilgrimage to the Holy Land – as well
as the Patriarchates of Constantinople, Jerusalem
and Alexandria, in 1927 – the emergence of the
Romanian Patriarchy was meant to strengthen
the institution through many innovative ideas,
which however remained at the level of plain
debates.
Officially travelling to confer the Order of
the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem to the
Romanian royal family, to some ministers and
the Metropolitan-Primate Miron Cristea, the
Patriarch of Jerusalem considered natural that an
eventual Orthodox ecumenical synod should
take place in the Holy City, while he did not
hide his dissatisfaction with the new British
authorities in Palestine who sought by means of
a commission to oversee the pilgrimages to the
Holy Land. As a result, Miron Cristea interceded
with the Archbishop of Canterbury for a better
understanding
of
common
problems
(Plămădeală 1987, 365).
Following the impressive pilgrimage of
154 pilgrims organised by Metropolitan Nicolae
Bălan in 1925, the one organised by Miron
Cristea in 1927 can thus be included in a series
of personal and official travels of a similar kind.
The main source of information on this
pilgrimage is the report that he prepared, at his
return, for the Romanian Orthodox Church
Synod.
Just as in previous pilgrimages, the visit
included the traditional stages: leaving from
Constanţa harbour to Constantinople, Athens,
Alexandria, Cairo, and then Jerusalem. The only
A pragmatic nature, he wished that the Council
of Nicaea was celebrated by a new ecumenical
council and that the Orthodox Patriarchate of
Constantinople became a representative of the
Orthodox faith, following the desire of some
national patriarchs, who had declared that they
wanted to feel the spiritual leaders of a Christian
church, without any ethnic, national or political
threats and pressures (Cristea, 1920).
Despite initial difficulties, between 1923
and 1932, two conferences took place in order to
prepare the pan-Orthodox synod. The first took
place in Constantinople in 1923, being convened
by the Patriarch Meletios IV, and discussed a
sensitive issue – the calendar – but without
reaching an agreement. It was followed in 1930
by the conference of Vatopedi/ Athos, which
was to prepare the future works of the panOrthodox synod – for which the new patriarch,
Photios II, established the year 1932 - but for
various reasons, the council did not take place
(Petcu 2009, 210-211).
In the same period, the Romanian
historian Nicolae Iorga advocated for a real
transformation of the Patriarchate into a federal
body, detaching itself at some point - for the
benefit of all the Orthodox Churches - from
what the Greeks were trying to put into practice,
through the ‗Megali Idea‘: the Great Greece,
dominating the Balkan Peninsula.
Also departing from an ancient structure
and benefiting only temporarily from the support
of the European Powers, besides being internally
divided into royalists and republicans, Greece
also failed in its political plan while the
Patriarchate of Constantinople made no efforts
to modernize its general image. In fact, in his
pilgrimage to the republican Greece, Miron
Cristea observed the tense relations between the
political leader E.Venizelos and the Orthodox
Church, the latter being considered a supporter
of the monarchy (Cristea 1927).
It was in this context that, according to
Miron Cristea and other interwar Romanian
intellectuals that the Romanian Orthodox
Church needed a patriarch, being the only
country preserving the metropolitan as the
highest religious level, although it had the
largest number of Orthodox believers, after
Russia (Petcu 2009, 405).
Miron Cristea left on a pilgrimage after
officially becoming a patriarch (on January 11,
1925), having participated in Iaşi at what was
meant to be a preamble to a synod of the
Orthodox world. We refer here to the Iaşi
Celebrations, dedicated not only to the Council
of Nicaea in 325 but also to the significance of
92
such as Patriarch Damianos‘ welcome at the
entrance of the Holy Sepulchre. After the
common service held there by the two
patriarchs, Miron Cristea expressed his wish to
give his thanks for the ‗blessings towards our
Motherland and our Church‘ but also for ‗King
Ferdinand‘s health, [as he was] seriously ill‘. At
the Calvary chapel he performed a memorial
service for the Romanian heroes in World War I
as well as for those who had been on pilgrimage
there in 1925 (Ploieşteanul 1940).
Another important moment, filled with
religious significance, was that of the baptism in
the Jordan River, symbolising the conviction of
sin and the hope in the future. Personally, Miron
Cristea consecrated with holy water from the
Jordan River a number of five icons, which he
later sent to the hermitage he had built in his
hometown, Topliţa. Other important stops
during the pilgrimage took place in Bethlehem,
the Mount of Olives, Bethany, the Dead Sea,
Jericho and Nazareth, Cana of Galilee, all filled
with biblical meaning related to Jesus‘ life in
that part of the world.
Another special moment was the visit to
the ‗Transylvania‘ colony, inhabited by Hebrews
originated from Romania. Officially, in
Jerusalem the diplomatic issues did not prevail,
except for an official meeting with the governor
of Palestine from which just one diplomatic
representative – that of Turkey – was absent.
For the Romanian Patriarch, it was
important to solve three aspects concerning the
Patriarchate he was visiting: the relationship
with the Christian Arab community - on which
he correctly noticed a ‗strong Arab
consciousness‘, the reassessment of the many
properties of the Patriarchate that were not
valorised properly, having as a result the
accumulation of large debts and, finally,
establishing a balance in the relationship they
had with other Christian churches, present at the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, in particular with
the Roman Catholic Church and the Armenian
or Coptic Church (Cristea 1927).
But what was the situation of Romanians
in Jerusalem? In 1927, the year of the
pilgrimage, their situation was complicated, in
the sense that the building of a Romanian
institution in Jerusalem (consisting of a church
and a hostel for pilgrims) was still at the
beginning. The situation was all the sadder, as
the Romanian donations to support the Holy
Places were recognised as significant, due to the
special symbolism Jerusalem had for the
Romanian Orthodox. Concerning pilgrimages,
Romanians started this practice rather late,
regret he expressed was that, because of the lack
of time, they could not visit the Patriarchate of
Antioch (Cristea 1927, Abrudeanu 1929, 443).
Regarding the first major stop, there is not
much to say except mentioning his previously
expressed sadness regarding the fact that in
Constantinople there were increasingly fewer
aspects to remind them that for the followers of
this religion, the city remained the ‗Capital of
the Orthodox faith‘. Arriving there on May 23,
1927, Miron Cristea offered his support to
militant Orthodoxy, expressing - in his talks
with Patriarch Basil – the belief that a panOrthodox movement was desirable and that they
must strive to stop the Turks from perceiving the
Patriarchy as ‗just a representation of the
interests of the Greeks‘ (Abrudeanu 1929, 315317).
Athens was considered a special stop in
the pilgrimage, although the first part of the visit
was focused on official aspects, including the
meeting with the President of the Republic, the
reunion with the Synod of the Greek Orthodox
Church and the service held in the Cathedral of
Athens. However, these could not compete with
the manner in which Miron Cristea felt and
described the moment at ‗the rock of the
Areopagus, where I read - our heads uncovered
–the speech given by the Apostle Paul to the
Athenians‘ (Cristea 1927).
The next visit took place at the
Patriarchate of Alexandria, on which the account
offers details about Patriarch Meletios‘ kind
welcome, as well as observations about the
evolution of the Orthodox community there.
Miron Cristea was primarily interested in the
relations between the Greek community –
dominant not only numerically but also through
the position it had in the choosing the Patriarch
from among its hierarchs – and the political
aspirations of the Arab community - particularly
of the Orthodox one – which could not be
ignored. A special role was still played by the
Copts. Even more so, in the visits performed to
the Patriarchate school in Ramleh he noticed that
there were young Syrians among its students
(Cristea1927).
The last aspects of his journey were rather
focused on touristic aspects, illustrated by the
photos taken at the Museum of Antiquities in
Cairo and of course at the pyramids and the
Sphinx.
In fact, the visit to Alexandria prepared
Miron Cristea for the most important part of the
pilgrimage, namely the visit to Jerusalem, where
he remained between May 30 and June 4, 1927.
It was associated to some touching moments
93
particularly if one considers the non-clerical
pilgrims, as monks and nuns were mentioned in
many sources to have been at the Jordan River,
Mount Tabor and Jerusalem (Creţu 2007,
Al.A.Botez 1971).
Returning in 1927 to Jerusalem, Miron
Cristea noticed that Romanians, despite the
sacrifices they had made, had ‗no shelter of their
own‘, although they deserved - for everything
they did – the ‗gratitude of Christianity and
Orthodoxy‘ (Cristea 1927).
The model followed until then in
everything related to pilgrimages was the
Russian one, pilgrimages being organised in the
period
1900-1914
by
the
Palestinian
Archaeological Society of St. Petersburg that
also built monasteries and shelters for pilgrims
on the route Odessa–Jaffa, and organised 2
travels per month (Veniamin 1933).
In the nineteenth century, there had been a
number of important initiatives of some
clergymen as well as non-clericals, who actually
contributed to the foundation for what was to
become later the Romanian settlement in
Jerusalem. Among them we could mention: the
monk Theodor Rosetti and his disciple Irinarh,
who built a Romanian monastery on Mount
Tabor (1859-1862), and Sister Porfiria from
Răşinari, who turned a deserted chapel of the
Holy Archangels Monastery in the so-called
Romanian chapel, consecrated in 1926 (Pocitan
1927, 335).
A special case was that of Theodor
Burada, Professor at the Conservatory in Iaşi,
and a well-known ethnologist and folklorist,
who after the pilgrimage made in 1884 dedicated
himself to the mission of fundraising in order to
build a settlement for the Romanian pilgrims. He
received help from Queen Elizabeth, who,
between 1906 and 1914, supervised the work of
the initiative committee, whose president she
was. The committee consisted of the
Metropolitan-Primate Conon Arămescu, the
Metropolitan of Moldova and Suceava, Pimen,
the Sinaia Monastery Archimandrite, Dionisie,
and the architect Ghica-Budeşti. The initiative
was supported by the Romanian state through a
grant of 200 000 lei. In the call issued by the
committee and addressing the Romanian people,
there was a sentence worth mentioning,
suggesting that the action was meant to unite all
efforts, from the ‗oblation of the poor, to the
talent of the rich, as a proof of Christian love of
the Romanian people‘ (O biserică românească
în Ierusalim din iniţiativa Majestăţei Sale,
Reginei Elisaveta, 1914).
Following the first fundraising in 1906,
the initiators of this project could rent a location
for housing Romanian pilgrims and in 1908
purchase some land for the construction of a
Romanian church (the location of which being
established in 1912). Patriarch Damianos‘ initial
consent had been given but the works could not
start because, according to the legislation of the
Ottoman Empire, a request on behalf of the
Patriarchate of Jerusalem was necessary,
justifying the need to build a Romanian
Orthodox church there, followed by an imperial
decree on the matter. In order to perform an
analysis on the field, the Romanian Orthodox
Church sent to Jerusalem, in April 1914, a
commission headed by Father Demetrescu,
along with Dionisie Simionescu, abbot of the
monastery of Sinaia, the architect George Lupu
and Theodor Burada (Demetrescu 1914).
In the same context, around the year 1918,
the priest Florea from Dobrogea and his wife who had decided to spend the rest of their lives
in Jerusalem – tried to reunite the entire
Romanian community in Jerusalem and rented a
house with this purpose, one room being
converted into a chapel (Negoiţă 1941).
In the meanwhile, in 1930, Patriarch
Miron Cristea received the support of the Royal
family for a new initiative committee, consisting
of the two queens - Queen Marie and Queen
Helen -, following their pilgrimage to the Holy
Land (Ploieşteanul 1940).
After solving the political and canonical
formalities, there was still the need to clarify the
situation of the estate purchased by Theodor
Burada on behalf of an Arab Christian and
which was going to enter into the property of the
Romanian Patriarchy. Regarding this issue,
Miron Cristea, on returning home, convinced the
Ministry of Religious Affairs to pay the
remaining taxes on behalf of the owner of the
estate. Moreover, as in British Palestine the
institutions of other states could not own
properties this right being limited only to
citizens, after the payment of remaining debt of
6633 lei, the priest-vicar of Bucharest, Tit
Simedrea bought the land in question and
donated it to the Patriarchy in 1935.
Between 1930 and 1935, the issue of the
Romanian settlement in Jerusalem was
advocated by Athanasie Negoiţă, a young and
ambitious scholar that had received a fellowship
from the Romanian state and who studied
Biblical Studies at the French School of
Archaeology-Biblical Studies. It was he who
provided perhaps the most eloquent and concise
opinion on the disproportion between the
94
donations made by the Romanian to Jerusalem
and their actual presence there. Thus, Athanasie
Negoiţă argued that he had found traces of the
passage of Romanian pilgrims in Jerusalem only
at the Archangels Monastery, where one could
find Romanian inscriptions ‗on the stone floor of
the cloister yard‘. An enthusiastic nature, he
found in Father Gherasim Luca – who had
retired to Jerusalem, after a long period of being
a priest in America – a great supporter of the
cause.
Together they initiated a committee and
fundraising in Jerusalem as well, their appeal
addressing all Romanians, including those living
in America, where an Orthodox diocese was
founded in 1934. In order not to create the
impression of parallel actions and for a better
coordination – at least that was the official
version – the Romanian Patriarchy took the
initiative in 1931 and placed the action under the
direction of Father C. Constantin Dron (Negoiţă
1941).
Father Gerasim Luca‘s initiatives went
however further: he purchased some land on the
shore of the Jordan River from a Romanian who
had come from America, Nicolae Zvanciuc,
followed by another in Nazareth - in the Hebrew
colony ‗Afuleia‘ – in 1931. Finally, he
purchased in 1937 an estate- which was
allegedly on the place of Zacchaeus‘ house –
with an area of 1,500 square meters, all these
being subsequently donated to the Romanian
Patriarchy. Moreover, in his will he left all his
movable and immovable property to the
Romanian Patriarchy (Ploieşteanul 1940).
Disappointed with Patriarch Damianos‘
delays regarding the Romanian project, Miron
Cristea sent another delegation to Jerusalem, led
by the Bishop of Hotin, Visarion Puiu, with a
totally unexpected mission: the request to
transfer or sell the Holy Archangels Monastery
to the Romanian Orthodox Church, request
motivated by the latter‘s ability to provide real
support to the Orthodox cause at Jerusalem, in
the context of the Catholic, Muslim, Coptic and
Protestant claims. The refusal – quite predictable
- was motivated by the fact that the Archangels
Monastery was part of the heritage of the Holy
Sepulchre, or – as Athanasie Negoiţă wrote – of
the ‗Greek Heritage‘. Despite the negative
response, Bishop Visarion bought, before
leaving, some land, as the other churches had
done, especially the Catholic Church, in
Nikeforia, the newest neighbourhood of
Jerusalem, an estate originally owned by the
Patriarchate of Jerusalem.
The establishment in Jerusalem of a
Romanian consulate, led since 1932 by Marcu
Beza represented in its turn more support in this
respect, including for the church. Marcu Beza‘s
appointment was worthwhile because – although
well intended, in general – the previous
(honorary) consul, Gherasimos, of Greek
nationality, showed neither the feeling nor the
behaviour necessary to support Romanian
interests (Negoiţă 1941).
The year 1935 meant a significant change
in Jerusalem: on August 15, 1935, the
foundation of the Romanian settlement was laid,
gathering representatives of both Patriarchates
but later, in 1939, the works were stopped due to
war.
At the Jordan River, the foundation to the
hermitage ‗St. John the Baptist‘ was laid on
March 28, 1935 and the solemn consecration
took place on April 25, the works being
completed the following year. On this occasion,
150 pilgrims arrived in the country, among them
the Bishop of Roman, Lucian Tritean. A solemn
moment was that of signing the charter, when,
alongside clergymen and all pilgrims,
representatives of the Jerusalem Patriarchate
participated – unlike in Jerusalem -, after some
hesitation. The best period of the monastic
community there was that of 1947-1953, when
the latter was headed by John Jacob the
Romanian (in Romanian, Ioan Iacob Românul)
from the wilderness Hozeva, a monk who was
later canonized as the Father John (Jacob) the
Romanian. As a reaction to what was considered
to be an unexpected offensive of the Romanian
Orthodoxy, the Patriarchate of Jerusalem agreed
to consecrate the Romanian church in Jerusalem
but not the one in Jericho. Concerning the efforts
to build the church and the Romanian Settlement
in Jerusalem one must mention in addition the
financial contributions of the Bishop of Hotin,
Visarion Puiu, who also undertook a pilgrimage
to Jerusalem in 1927, and also the special
support of General Cornel Beza and the use of
the money obtained from projections of Mount
Athos made in the country with a ‗mobile
cinema‘ (Petcu 2010).
In 1938, the church was finished but its
consecration and of the entire establishment in
Jerusalem then passed to the care of another
patriarch, Nicodim Munteanu, and King Carol
II. Actually, due to the conflicts between Israel
and the Arabs in general, only in 1975 Patriarch
Justinian Marina could consecrate the Romanian
church there (Creţu 2000).
At Jericho, the building of a settlement –
considered nowadays for organised pilgrimage –
95
was the most delayed and this also because it
was placed, similarly to the Jordan River, in an
area always disputed by Israel and Jordan. In
that area the Romanian presence was also
known, and there was a Samoilă family who
donated as early as 1933 their properties there (a
land of 10 000 square meters and several
houses) to meet the needs of a future Romanian
settlement. In fact, for the reasons listed above,
the construction started only in 1999, after the
family heir, Dumitru Samoilă, made the final
donation that was also recognised by the
Palestinian authority in 1996 (Creţu 2007).
Miron Cristea‘s pilgrimage – although
combining public and private features – was
transformed into an action of political and
diplomatic significance meant to bring to the
fore the Romanian Orthodox Church. The result
was generally positive, although some
expectations could not be satissfied. One cannot
ignore some specific aspects of the pilgrimage,
such as the stop to the Acropolis of Athens, at
the Holy Sepulchre, Golgotha, the Jordan River,
Alexandria and Constantinople. The Patriarch,
as any other pilgrim, perceived every moment of
the visit only through the traces of Christian
history. A pragmatic nature, he could not fail to
give warnings on issues whose consequences
could be negative in time, for example, on the
evolution of the Christian Arab community
separate from that of the Patriarchate of
Jerusalem and the emphasis laid on enforcing
other Orthodox communities to merge into a
pseudo-Greek one.
Officially, though he admitted the great
merits of the Romanian Orthodoxy, the Patriarch
of Jerusalem was in no hurry to give approvals
for the construction of Romanian settlements in
Jerusalem, Jordan River and Jericho, being
afraid he would be annoyed with other similar
requests coming from other Orthodox Churches.
Accepted – as before – due to the
substantial material aid and personal devotion of
monks and nuns who went to the Holy Land, the
Romanian Orthodox aimed at the opportunity to
find an official representation and manifestation.
The efforts of Romanian hierarchs before and
especially after 1918 and the emergence of the
Romanian Patriarchy forced the other
Patriarchates and particularly the traditional
Eastern Patriarchates to accept the image of a
reinforced Romanian Orthodoxy. Besides
collective pilgrimages, Miron Cristea‘s 1927
individual pilgrimage also triggered, officially
speaking, the period of consolidation of the
Romanian presence in Jerusalem, providing a
strong impetus to Romanian Orthodox initi-
atives, and demonstrating the ability of the latter
to exceed the national recently stabilised (in
1918) borders.
References
Cristea, Miron,
‗Referatul
Cristea
I.P.Sf. Patriarh D.D.Dr. Miron
1927
Cristea către Sf. Sinod al
Bisericii al României despre
călătoria sa la Locurile Sfinte‘
[The Report of the Holy
Patriarch
D.D.Dr.
Miron
Towards the Holy Synod
Regarding His Journey to The
Holy Land]. In: Biserica
Ortodoxă Română [Romanian
Orthodox Church], LV, Issue 7,
(1927), p. 389-390.
Cristea, Miron, ‗Referatul I. P.
Cristea
Sf. Patriarh D. D. Dr. Miron
1927
Bisericii României despre
Patriarch
D.D.Dr.
Miron
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Ortodoxă Română, LV, 7/556,
(1927), p. 390.
Cristea, Miron,
‗Referatul
Cristea
I.P.Sf. Patriarh D.D.Dr. Miron
1927
Bisericii României despre
Patriarch
D.D.Dr.
Miron
Holy Land] In: Biserica
Ortodoxă Română, LV, 7,
(1927), p. 392-393.
*** ‗O biserică românească în
*** 1914
Ierusalim
din
iniţiativa
Majestăţei
sale,
Reginei
Elisaveta‘ [A Romanian Church
in Jerusalem at the initiative of
his Majesty, Queen Elizabeth].
In: Biserica Ortodoxă Română,
XL, 11, 1914, p. 834-835.
Ploieşteanul Veniamin, Ploieşteanul, ‗Noi
aşezăminte româneşti din Ţara
1940
Sfântă‘, [New Romanian Settlements in the Holy Land] In:
Biserica Ortodoxă Română,
96
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1940
Pocitan
1927
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1924
Botez 1971
Books:
Abrudeanu
1929
Cristea
1920
Dron 1926
LXVI, Issue 5-6, (1940), p.
344.
Veniamin, Ploieşteanul, ‗Noi
aşezăminte româneşti din Ţara
Sfântă‘ [New Romanian Settlements in the Holy Land]. In:
Biserica Ortodoxă Română,
LXVI, 5-6, (1940), p. 347-356.
Pocitan, Vasile, ‗Un paraclis
românesc la Ierusalim‘ [A
Romanian Chapel at Jerusalem]
In: Biserica Ortodoxă Român,
LV, nr.7 (1927), p. 335.
Scriban, Iuliu, ‗În duhul
dragostei frăţeşti. Patriarhul
Damianos al Ierusalimului în
vizită în România‘ [In the spirit
of brotherly love. Patriarch
Damianos of Jerusalem visiting
Romania].
In:
Biserica
Ortodoxă Română, XLII, 9,
(1924), p. 546.
Botez, Al. A., ‗Pelerinii români
ortodocşi la Locurile Sfinte‘
[Romanian Orthodox Pilgrims
to the Holy Land] In:
Mitropolia Moldovei şi Sucevei
(Metropolitan of Moldova and
Suceava), XLVII, March-April
(1971), p. 278.
Petcu 2009
Plămădeală
1987
Bălan 1996
Petcu, Cristian Vasile, Guvernarea Miron Cristea [The
government Miron Cristea],
Bucureşti, Enciclopedic, 2009.
Plămădeală, Antonie, Contribuţii istorice privind perioada
perioada 1918-1939. Elie
Miron Cristea, documente,
însemnări şi corespondenţe,
[Historical contributions for
the period 1918 to 1939
period. Elie Miron Cristea,
documents, notes and correspondence],
Sibiu,
Archdiecesan Typography, 1987.
Bălan, Ioanichie, Mărturii
româneşti la Locurile Sfinte,
[Romanian Testimonies About
The Holy Land], Roman and
Huşi Bishop Publishing House,
Roman, 1996.
Chapters in books or studies in collective:
Ieronim,
Aşezămintele
Creţu Creţu,
româneşti
de
la
Ierusalim,
Ierihon
2007
şi Iordan [Romanian Settlements in
Jerusalem, Jericho and Jordan]. In:
Românii şi Ţara Sfântă [Romanians
and the Holy Land], 3rd edition,
Brăila, Istros, 2007.
Webpages:
Creţu 2007
http://www.crestinortodox.ro/carti-ortodoxe/
romanii-tara-sfanta/asezamintele-romanestila-ierusalim-iordan-ierihon-82419.html
(1.10.2013)
Demetrescu 1914
http://www.crestinortodox.ro/cartiortodoxe/romanii-tara-sfanta/demersuripentru-biserica-romaneasca-ierusalim82415.html (26.9.2013)
Negoiţă 1941
http://www.crestinortodox.ro/cartiortodoxe/romanii-tara-sfanta/locasurileinchinare-romanesti-la-locurile-sfinte82418.html (26.9.2013)
Veniamin 1933
http://www.crestinortodox.ro/cartiortodoxe/romanii-tara-sfanta/referatulcomisiei-pentru-dobandirea-unui-caminromanesc-ierusalim-82416.html (26.9.2013)
Petcu 2010
http://ziarullumina.ro/memoria-bisericii/
asezamantul-romanesc-de-la-ierusalim
(11.10.2013)
Abrudeanu,
Ion
Russu,
Patriarhul
României,
dr.
Miron Cristea, înalt regent,
[Patriarch of Romania, Dr.
Miron Cristea, High regent],
Bucureşti,
Cartea
Românească, 1929.
Cristea, Miron, Chestiunea
unui nou sinod ecumenic al
Bisericii Ortodoxe Răsăritene
şi
hotărârea Sf. Sinod al
Bisericii Autocefale Române,
[The Issue a New Ecumenical
Synod of the Eastern Orthodox
Church and The Decision of
the Holy Synod of the
Romanian
Autocephalous
Church], Bucureşti, Imprimeria Ministerului Cultelor, 1920.
Dron, C., Amintirea Soborului
de la Niceea. Serbările de la
Iaşi,
[Remembering
the
Council of Nicaea. Celebrations
of
Iasi],
Iaşi,
Monastery Neamţu, 1926.
97
Carlist Propaganda and National Holiday: Restoration and Youth’s
Day (1938-1940)
Diana-Mihaela PĂUNOIU
Researcher, PhD, Romanian Academy, ‗C.S. Nicolăescu-Plopşor‘
Institute for Studies in Social Sciences and Humanities from Craiova, Romania
Department of Archaeology and History
E-mail: dianamihaelapaunoiu@yahoo.com
Abstract (1). National holidays, Royal Family‘s celebrations and, generally, any festive
manifestation have been turned, during the regime of authoritarian monarchy of King Carol II (February
10th/11th, 1938- September 6th, 1940), into instruments for official propaganda, with the purpose of
spreading the Carlist ideology among the audience. The ideology was based, in essence, on the principle
of national solidarity and citizens‘ fidelity towards the King Carol II and the new regime, established
through the coupe d‘état from February 1938. In this context, the present study reconstructs and analyses
the organization and deployment of one of the most important national holiday during the Carlist regime,
‗The Youth and Restoration‘s Day‘, celebrated on June 8th. The investigated archival documents revealed
the inter-dependence between the official propaganda and the staging of the analyzed festive event,
translated into: the concern of the central power to ensure a ‗climate of celebration‘ all over the country,
respecting the pre-established programs, making the speeches held by the central and local authorities or
by various personalities of the times, following the pattern of the official speech (that presumed the
apology of the new regime, the praise of the King Carol II etc.) the exacerbation of the personality cult of
King Carol II.
Key words: official propaganda, national holiday, the cult of the Ruler, King Carol II, youth
The1period between February 10th/11th,
1938 and September 6th, 1940 is synonym, in
Romanian history, with the authoritarian
monarchy of King Carol II, which meant the end
of the traditional democratic system. During this
time interval, the central power tried to
implement a series of transformations destined
to fundamentally rebuild the Romanian state and
society, promoting a new propagandistic
scenario, centered on the principle of social
solidarity and the citizens‘ fidelity towards the
motherland and king (Constituţiunea Regele
Carol [al]II [lea], passim; Sandache 2007, 143;
Păunoiu 2012, 34-51). The king‘s alternative to
traditional democracy meant also the
introduction/enforcement of a new sociopolitical ritual (the roman salute, patriotic songs,
uniforms, national holidays etc.), intended to
create and to level the political attitudes and to
inspire the sentiment of identification of the
national community with the new regime
(Layton 2001, 71).
In this context, the propaganda
represented an important component of the
Carlist regime. The king itself acknowledged the
importance of the propaganda machine for
spreading the information to the wide public,
noting, on July 15th, 1938, that he found
necessary to give to Eugen Titeanu, the newly
appointed undersecretary for propaganda, a few
indications regarding the propagandistic action:
‘Is not just about the external propaganda, but is
also about the internal one. The country must be
kept informed and electrified about the
achievements of the regime and Government
[our underline]‘ (Carol II, vol. I, 2003, 276).
The general image created and spread by
the structures of the official propaganda starting
with 1938 was constructed around an
atmosphere of ‗euphoria, the measures stipulated
by the king being praised in the most
accentuated tonalities‘ (Sandache, 2007, 171).
All propagandistic activities were
coordinated ‗after new norms, in accordance
(1) The study is part of the research project called:
‗
Institutionalized propaganda during King Carol
II: Olt County (1938-1940)‘, included in the
research program called ‗Propaganda and ritual in
Romania (1866-1989)‘, coordinated by Researcher
III PhD Nicolae Mihai, Researcher III PhD DianaMihaela Păunoiu, Researcher III PhD Gabriel
Lohon, developed within the Romanian Academy
‗
C.S. Nicolăescu-Plopşor‘ Institute for Studies in
Social Sciences and Humanities from Craiova.
98
with the time of national rebirth [the Carlist
regime – our note]‘ (National Archives, Vâlcea,
fund Vâlcea County Prefecture, file no. 87/1939,
f. 45). A document relevant for the way the
central authorities understood to ‗guide‘ the
propaganda actions is the one from August 16th,
1939 representing the instructions that the
undersecretary for propaganda has sent to the
territorial authorities. You can see below a
fragment from that document: ‗[…] in the
future, we will be informed in time of any
propaganda manifestation that will take place
within your county and we will receive the
program and all the details, so we can study
them in detail, in order to intervene under any
way we consider it appropriate, to grant the size
and importance that the event deserves. [...]
using the right moment, to be in the middle of
them, with all the necessary elements and all
useful material to form a unity in thought, a
unity in action and a single ideal of new times‘
(Ibidem, f. 45-45v.).
The creation of a powerful propaganda
mechanism (Scurtu 2001, 260-261, 269-270;
Istoria românilor, vol. VIII, 2003, 396-397) had
the role to mask the real situation in Romania of
those times and to inoculate the public mass
with the idea that the King Carol II, the creator
of a new Romania, and his regime enjoyed the
total adhesion of the population, ending up in
such a point where even the state spirit of the
population was ‗regulated‘: ‗The popular
‗Enthusiasm‘ was deployed after a rigorous
scenario conceived by the Ministry of the
National Propaganda, created on October 3rd,
1939. The ministry sent instructions regarding
the materials that were about to be published on
the occasion of some anniversaries and king‘s
visits, of his speeches, of what it had to be
written about the sovereign‘s way of life: all had
the purpose of presenting the King Carol II as
the symbol of human virtues […]‘ (Istoria
românilor, vol. VIII, 2003, 401-402).
Inside this mechanism, the national
holidays represented one of the main
instruments to spread the Carlist ‗ideology‘
around population, and also to manifest the
popular adhesion towards the new regime and
towards its main partisan, King Carol II, the
epicenter of any festive manifestations. The
image that had to be shaped on these events was
one of a disciplined and obedient national
community, united around its Ruler.
The calendar of the Carlist ‗Royal
Holidays‘ had important and decisive moments
for the formation of the modern Romanian state
(the Day of January 24th – ‗Unification of the
Principalities, 1859 and of all Romanians, 1918‘,
The Day of May 10th – Anniversary of
Independence Proclamation in 1877 and of the
Kingdom 1881/‗Day of Nation‘ etc.), Royal
Family‘s anniversaries (the most important
being October 16th, the birthday of King Carol
II), holidays with double significance, national
and religious, (‗the Heroes Day‘, national
holiday with variable date, celebrated in the
same day with the religious holiday ‗Ascension
of the Lord‘; on August 6th, in the same time
with the religious holiday ‗Transfiguration‘ it
was celebrated, all around the country, ‗The
victory from Mărăşeşti‘/‗Day of Romanian
Glory‘), the important religious celebrations etc.
(National Archives, Vâlcea, fund The National
Guard of the National Renaissance Front, Vâlcea
County, file No. 1/1939-1940, f. 197). This
calendar was enriched with two holidays
specific to King Carol II‘s reign: The
Restoration Day (June 8th) and, from 1938, The
Day of Constitution King Carol II (February
27th).
All these major festive events were under
the monopoly of the central power and
transformed into important propagandistic
moments, having the purpose of spreading of the
new regime‘s ideology and of praising the King
Carol II, ‗the saviour of the country‘ and the
creator of the new Romania.
In this context, our study intends to
reconstruct and analyse the organisation and the
deployment of one of the most important
national holiday during the Carlist regime, The
Restoration Day (1). The archival documents
(1) The first two festivities dedicated to ‗The Day of
Restoration‘ that symbolized the arrival, on June
8th, 1930, of King Carol II on the Throne of
Romania, were organized, in 1931, by the
government of national union, presided by
Nicolae Iorga (April 18th, 1931 – May 31st, 1932).
This national holiday started with thanksgivings
in Bucharest and in the county‘s capitals. The
program for the activities in that day, for the
entire country, was conceived and executed by the
institution in charge with the youth‘s education:
initially The Office for the Education of
Romanian Youth (O.E.T.R.), then the Guardians
of the Motherland, after the reorganisation from
December 1938. In Bucharest, the celebration was
deployed on the Cotroceni plateau. The
Presidency of the Ministry Council was the one
sending the invitations, received from O.E.T.R. /
The Guardians of the Motherland, to the officials
that assisted those festivities from the Presidency
Tribune (Istoria românilor, vol. VIII, 2003, 303;
National Archives, Vâlcea, fund The National
99
investigated revealed the inter-dependence
between the official propaganda and the staging
of the analysed festive event, translated in: the
concern of the central power to ensure a ‗climate
of celebration‘ all over the country, respecting
the pre-established programs, making the
speeches held by the central and local authorities
or by various personalities of the times,
following the pattern of the official speech (that
presumed the apology of the new regime, the
praise of the King Carol II etc.) the exacerbation
of the personality cult of King Carol II.
The day of June 8th received a double
signification, celebrating the Youth and
Restoration Day, spreading this way the idea
that the reign of King Carol II represented the
future of the country. This was underlined also
in the time‘s press. In the newspaper ‗The
National Conscience‘ from 1938, it was
underlined the fact that the celebration of
Restoration – ‗The Day of Romanian Kind‘ – in
Craiova had made a powerful impression on
population, ‗the gush of enthusiasm‘ coming
from ‗ebullience of hot love, of uncontained
patriotic expansion of the youth enlisted with
such divine goodwill in the ‗white army‘ of the
guardian‘, and from the fact that ‗all this
precious holy devotion, of heroism in continuous
and overwhelming ebullition is for Him, for the
Voivode of National Culture, King Carol II‘
(‗The National Conscience‘, year XIV, no. 1-2,
June 28th, 1938).
‗The holiday of Youth and Restoration‘
(June 8th) was preceded by the ‗Week of the
Guardians‘ (June 1st-7th), and it was considered
to be the concretization of the work in a
guardian‘s year‘. Every day was dedicated to a
specific problem, that had to be lived intensely,
in all its characteristic aspects‘, as follows: June
1st was ‗Day dedicate to the town‘, when the
guardians did voluntary work for the use of the
community they belong to; June 2nd – ‗Day
dedicated to Church and family‘; June 3rd – ‗Day
dedicated to nature and health‘; June 4th – ‗Day
dedicated to guardian‘s solidarity‘; June 5th –
‗Day dedicated to the preparation for the major
celebrations from June 8th‘, when the last
rehearsals for the celebrations from June 8th took
place, in the presence of the authorities, families
and guardian‘s friends; June 6th – ‗Day dedicated
to heroes and great people‘; June 7th – ‗Day
dedicated to work and guardian soul‘, was the
day when there were highlighted the
achievements of the guardians ‗from everywhere
and from the town and it will be spoken of the
guardian soul in the action of Kind‘s ascension
and strengthening‘ (Guardians of the
Motherland, 1939, 203-207).
‗The Week of the Guardians‘ was
completed with the day of June 8th, when ‗The
Great Holiday of Youth and Restoration‘ was
celebrated. In that day, ‘the guardians
everywhere lift an altar of praise to the Great
Protector and Ruler of our national destinies
[our underline]‘ and ‗the entire manifestation
was made in a frame of imposing greatness‘
(Ibidem, 182).
The general scenario for the day of June
8th had 3 main stages: In the morning, reviews of
the guardian‘s units, the ceremony of raising the
national flag, demonstrations of sport, choirs and
national dances took place; in the afternoon –
open air sportive activities, and in the evening,
the retreat with torches and camp fires (Ibidem,
208).
‗The Week of the Guardians‘ and ‗The
Great Holiday of Youth and Restoration‘
symbolized the main ideas of the new regime‘s
doctrine; considered as indispensable for
forming the young people, the future citizens of
Romania, the ones that had to ensure the
persistence of the new regime, in the conception
of Carlist‘s protagonists.
The pattern for organizing the day of
June 8th was similar with the ones of the great
national holidays, with the difference that there
was also organized ‗major deployment of
troops‘ of the guardians that were prepared
intensely for that day.
Therefore, on May 6th, 1938, the Ministry
of Interior sent a notice to the prefects of the
counties, with instructions for celebration of the
day of ‗June 8th, dedicated to H.M.S. King Carol
II, The Great Guardian of our Kind‘ and for
arranging the competitions between towns and
counties during May.
According to those, all prefects had to call
in, urgently, the committee for preparation and
organisation of the established program for the
day of June 8th, formed out of the commander of
the legion and of a representative of the local
administration, police, health service, church,
school, fire department etc. On the meeting, they
had to established, in detail, the exact program
and delegate the attributions and responsibilities
so that everything will happen ‗in the most
perfect order, discipline and safety‘. The people
had to be selected initially and the ones that did
not inspire confidence had to be removed. This
committee had to gather as often it was needed
in order to be informed on the status of
Guard of the National Renaissance Front Vâlcea
County, file no. 1/1939 – 1940, f. 197).
100
preparations (National Archives, Olt, fund Olt
County Prefecture, file No. 23/1938, f. 4).
The camp fires mentioned in the Bulletin
of ‗The Guardians of the Motherland‘ (‗The
Guardians of the Motherland Bulletin‘, No. 12/1938, 83) were to be held only in the towns
that were county‘s residency and in the major
cities, where the police supervision could be
ensured (National Archives, Olt, fund Olt
County Prefecture, file No. 23/1938, f. 4).
Also, while it was considered that the
units of guardians were ‗inspired by a spirit of
discipline‘ and, generally, they could be trusted,
the prefects were being asked to make a serious
selection: ‗[…] still, to avoid any surprises,
please collect checked information over the units
that will travel to Bucharest for the restoration
celebrations and in case you have doubts over
some of them communicate [them] to the
Prefecture of Capital Police, and also to the
Commandment of the Guardians‘ (Ibidem, f.
4v.–5; National Archives, Vâlcea, fund Vâlcea
County Prefecture, file No. 58/1938, f. 11v.–
12).
Other measures that had to be taken by
the prefects, in the territory they ruled over,
aimed to maintain the public order, organise the
traffic on the main public streets and check the
stages ‗so nothing could shadow this beautiful
celebration with any unfortunate incident‘
(National Archives, Olt, fund Olt County
Prefecture, file no. 23/1938, f. 5).
With all the safety measures that
authorities took ‗The Day of Youth and
Restoration‘ in 1938 was ‗shadowed‘ because of
atmospheric
conditions.
The
festivities,
deployed partially for two hours, were
postponed for the next day. Nevertheless, the
delegations that came from overseas were
impressed by ‗the kid‘s discipline under the rain‘
(Carol II, vol. I, 249).
Restarted on June 9th, ‗The Day of Rain
and Welfare Restoration‘, as it was named by
Eugen Titeanu, undersecretary for propaganda,
finished in a real holiday atmosphere. The King
wrote in his journal the following: ‗Yesterday‘s
celebration continues today with all the glamour.
The program is executed wonderful, all as good
as possible. The boys have made great progress,
almost reaching the perfection of the girls. […]
The march is to be compared with the Army‘s
best. Excellent are the guardian‘s bands;
bagpipes raise many applauses‘ (Ibidem, 491,
250).
The pre-established program of the
manifestation from the A.N.E.F. stadium in
Bucharest had the following stages, identifiable
in the ceremony practiced by the youth in the
Guardians of the Motherland: the divine service,
singing the Royal anthem, the prayer ‗Our
Father‘, and ‗the biblical Text‘, the speech of the
Great Guardian, King Carol II, guardian‘s songs,
guardian‘s gymnastic and the march of the
Guardians of the Motherland. (Istoria românilor,
vol. VIII, 2003, 397). All these had to highlight
the love and devotion for the king and his
regime (Cristea 2011, 171).
In 1939, the celebration of Restoration
and Youth was held with a special fast all over
the country, being prepared in the smallest detail
by the Carlist authorities. So, on June 5th,
undersecretary for propaganda, Eugen Titeanu
(1), was sending to the counties‘ prefects precise
instructions for the decoration of urban and rural
settlements. These had to be cleaned, decorated
with many national flags and in bright colours‘.
In the same time, the windows of the shops had
to be decorated with the portrait of King Carol II
and the Great Voievod Mihai, and also with
guardian‘s materials (National Archives, Olt,
fund Olt County‘s Prefecture, file No. 62/1939,
f. 86).
In the same time, the prefects had to take
measures that ‗in those towns and villages where
there was no equipment, radios had to be
installed in such a manner that the special
broadcast of the Radio Bucharest could be heard
by the entire population‘ (Ibidem).
In the same day, the commander of the
National Guard of the National Renaissance
Front gave the local Guard units instructions to
participate at the Restoration Day: ‗1) Where the
local authorities have organized the celebration,
you will fit in their program, participating with
the entire formation (those in uniform and those
without uniform). 2) In the cities (county‘s
capitals) where the authorities will not organize
anything, you will take the initiative of
officiating a Thanksgiving, inviting the
authorities. In both cases, the local formation of
the N[ational] G[uard] will march [our
underline]. In the same day, you will send on
behalf of the National Guard from that county,
an homage telegram to H.M.S. the King‘
(National Archives, Vâlcea, fund National
Guard of the national Renaissance Front Vâlcea
County, file No. 4/1939-1940, f. 29).
(1) On May 27th, 1939, Eugen Titeanu and Nissa
Cămărăşeanu, the commander of girls guardian‘s
units arrived in Craiova to do an inspection for the
day of June 8th (National Archives, Dolj, fund
Royal Residency of Olt County, Administrative
Service, file No. 28/1939, f. 108).
101
On May 24th, 1939, The Royal Aeronautic
Federation of Romania sent a notice to
representatives of the central power in the field,
informing that during the celebrations of the
Restoration from June 8th, the federation will
organize an air race called ‗The 2nd Great Prize
of Tourism Aviation King Carol II‘ that will
‗connect in flight, using tourism airplanes, the
country‘s provinces with the capital, symbolizing
this way the durable and permanent connections
that unite the entire country around the Throne
[our underline]‘ (National Archives, Dolj, fund
The Royal Residency of Olt County,
Administrative Service, file No. 53/1939, f.
200).
This is why, in the cities where the planes
were taking off to Bucharest, necessary
measures had to be imposed so that the action
could develop in special conditions, with the
participation of authorities, army and students.
Also, it was suggested that a representative gift
from that respective province could be offered to
the pilot (a bouquet of flowers, a sheaf of wheat
etc.), to be brought to Bucharest as an homage
from that region (National Archives, Olt, fund
Romanaţi County‘s Prefecture, file No. 46/1939,
f. 85).
In Bucharest, the festivities started with
the traditional celebration of youth on the
A.N.E.F stadium, in the presence of military,
religious and civil authorities, foreign
delegations from Greece, Germany, France,
Poland, Portugal, Italy and Spain (Carol II, vol
I, 2003, 258–259; Buhman, 2006, 471).
The celebration program of the Guardians
of the Motherland, deployed between 8th and
13th, had 3 stages. In the first stage, the
guardians were aligned on the stadium, the King
arrived, and a review of the guardians units was
executed together with the religious service and
the ceremony for raising the national flag. In the
second stage, gymnastic demonstrations and
national dances of the guardian‘s Legions from
Bucharest took place. In the last stage, there was
the guardian‘s march lasting an hour
(S.A.N.I.C., fund Presidency of Ministry
Council – Ceremony, file No. 287/1939, f. 214).
After the youth‘s celebration on the stadium, it
followed the dinner at the Royal Palace and, in
the evening, the reception given by Teofil
Sidorovici at the Military Centre (Buhman,
2006, p. 471).
King Carol II wrote in his journal the
following: ‗The Guardian‘s celebrations were
very successful and made a great impression on
the foreigners. […] Seeing this strengthening of
the movement for youth‘s education was a very,
very big soul satisfaction‘ (Carol II, vol. I, 2003,
259).
Also, in the rest of the country, according
to pre-established programs, ‗altars of praise‘ to
the King Carol II were raised. For example, in
Olt County, celebration of June 8th took place
with special fast. In Craiova, in the afternoon,
after the morning festivities from the town‘s
stadium, there were national games played by
the guardians from the town, two football
matches and the taking down of the national flag
(National Archives, Dolj, fund Royal Residency
of Olt County, Administrative Service, file No.
28/1939, f. 38, 40–40v.).
In the evening, at 21:00 hours, there was
the retreat with torches in the square of the
residential palace, forming the closing formation
of the Week of the Guardians. With this
opportunity, ‗His Excellency Mister Royal
Resident spoke from the balcony of the
Residential palace, presenting an homage to
H.M.S. King Carol II and to the Great Voievod
of Alba Iulia, Mihai, thanking the guardians and
their commanders for all the work they did and
for the beautiful success of the national holiday
of June 8th‘ (Ibidem, 40v.).
According to the report made by the
colonel Romulus Dimitriu, the prefect of Dolj
county, ‗during the entire of
guardian‘s
celebrations there was a good mood and an
indescribable enthusiasm, the thoughts of
everyone, from small to big, being directed
deeply grateful towards H.M.S. King Carol II,
The Great Guardian, the ruler of Great
Romania‘s destiny and maker of all national
hopes and aspirations‘ (National Archives, Dolj,
fund Dolj County‘s Prefecture, Administrative
Service, file no.3/1939, p.8)
In the day of June 8th, ‗great day for
Romanian kind‘, Drăgăşani city from Vâlcea
county was decorated with tricolours flags, with
portraits of King Carol II and the Great Voivode
of Alba Iulia, national carpets, flowers and
grass, and ‗the public from small to big gave this
holiday a special attention, taking part briskly at
the manifestations organized by the guardians
units and by the entire mechanism of police and
Administrative authorities‘ (National Archives,
Vâlcea, fund Vâlcea County‘s Prefecture, file
No. 84/1939, f. 29).
The priest Gh. Sachelarie, in the speech he
held during the ceremony for raising the national
flag, has underlined the fact that the day of June
8th ‗is the day of Romanian solidarity‘, and the
National Renaissance Front is the organism ‗in
which all the Romanians energies have to
gather‘ (Ibidem).
102
The national holiday ended, in the
Drăgăşani city, at 23:00 hours, ‗when the
spectators remained deeply touched by the
mentioning of the highest moments and living
memory of our ancestors and of our kind and all
that, with an indescribable enthusiasm for
participating at the celebration of the highest day
of June 8th, day of start and straightening of
rebirth of the Country and Romanian kind [our
underline]‘ (Ibidem, p. 28v.).
Petre P. Popescu, the commander of the
guardian‘s stole from the city of Govora, Vâlcea
county, showed in his speech that the day of
June 8th means ‗for all Romanians, the day in
which we praise the King H.M.S. Carol II,
protector of the entire Romanian nation and
specially the guardians, of whom he is the
supreme commander and who he loves with all
the warmth of his heart‘ (Ibidem, p. 31).
According to the report regarding the
deployment of the day of June 8th, done by the
prefect of Romanaţi County, M. A. Dobriceanu,
‗the manifestation was grandiose, very well
prepared, took place in order and punctuality,
generating enthusiasm for the public […].
Thanks to those beautiful achievements of these
manifestations of guardian youth, the day of
June 8th remained in the soul of citizens as the
greatest National day‘ (National Archives, Olt,
fund Romanaţi County‘s Prefecture, file No.
46/1939. f. 106).
Besides the eulogies brought to King
Carol II, the speech of the third Romanian
monarch from June 8th, 1939 synthesized the
socio-cultural and political standards, necessary
for the new model of citizen. Below is a
fragment from the respective speech:
‗[...] The Guardians mentioned in their
creed the primate of work, the primate of
prosperity through all that is healthy in our
people. In the soul of every guardian nowadays
had to be implanted the saying that all individual
accomplishments are for general use. The merit
of everyone is an addition to the progress of the
Romanian national entity. In this lies our moral
power: individuality inside the community. This
is the true constructive nationalism; this is the
warrant of our progress. [...] We do not make
parades, we shape souls [in the way of creating
sentiments, moral features – author‘s note] and
these souls have to be tempered in a creed, this
creed is the real patriotism: gathering all efforts
– each according to his powers – for elevation
and straighten the true creative romanianism.
[...] A new layout has been given to
Romania, placed on the foundation of work and
faith: a new liberty has been given to the
Country, a liberty of progress making discipline.
The rhythm of future Romania will have to be
the one of faith that will be infused to you [the
guardians – author‘s note]. [...] I wish that these
words go beyond their margins, as wide as they
could be of the organisation [The Guard of the
Motherland – author‘s note] and be seeded
deeply in the soul of every Motherland lovers.
The beliefs and sayings of the guardians will
become the beliefs and sayings of my entire
people. A true moral cannot be chained inside a
small number of souls; it has to be spread in the
subconscious of every one for the good of a
Romanian Romania [our underline]‘ (Negulescu,
1938, 37-39).
This speech was considered by the
theorists of the regime as underlining the
essential points of ‗doctrine of national
reconstruction‘ (Ibidem, 39), in the name of
which King Carol II started the authoritarian
regime.
In 1940, because of the situation from the
international stage, the Restoration festivities
have been organized with less fast than in the
previous year, although, in this year, there would
have been 10 years of King Carol‘s II ruling.
Nevertheless, the youngsters prepared
intensively for the Day of Youth and
Restoration. In March 1940, the Ministry of
National Education sent to the authorities under
their control instructions so that the celebrations
‗to take place with special fast. Taking into
account that the preparations and all preventive
measures must be taken care of in time, we ask
you to make it clear to the secondary and
industrial schools in your County that during
March, April and May 1940, the classes for
sport and music will be used to prepare the
demonstration programs and guardian songs‘
(National Archives, Dolj, fund ‗Elena Cuza‘
Highschool Craiova, file No. 1/1939-1940, f.
262).
Also, the school doctors had to start a
detailed examination of the students for a more
exigent physically selection, and, ‗if necessary,
those who might not support eventual
difficulties of the rehearsals program can be
eliminated from rehearsals‘ prepared for
participation on the celebrations of day of June
8th (Ibidem, f. 265).
The King‘s interdiction for organising
major festivities on the occasion of the Day of
Youth and Restoration was provided towards the
end of May (Ţurlea, 2006, 147), when youth‘s
preparation for ‗the great day‘ was nearly
complete.
103
On June 5th 1939, the Ministry of Interior
sent a notice to authorities under its control
notifying them that, on June 8th, thanksgivings
will be officiated in the entire country where all
civil and military authorities had to assist.
Therefore, the schools, civil and military
institutions, including court houses, had to
suspend their activity. Also, the shops, markets,
factories, except the ones working for the army,
were closed. National flags had to be displayed
everywhere (National Archives, Vâlcea, fund
Vâlcea County‘s Prefecture, file No. 32/1940, f.
19).
The Education and Propaganda from the
General Commandment of the National Guards
of F.R.N. sent on June 8th, to the local Guard
units, instructions regarding the way of
participating at the festivities for the celebration
of ‗ten years of peaceful and prolific reign of
King Carol II‘: Day of June 8th had to be the day
when we dress our soul with purity. We march,
with no delay and with all enthusiasm, on the
road that His Majesty The King has opened, on
the road of duty, that lead towards the
consolidation of the motherland‘ (National
Archives, Olt, fund National Guard of National
Renaissance Front Olt County, file No. 27/1940,
f. 75). Also, all local Guard units had order to
present telegraphic praises to King Carol II
(Ibidem, file No. 39/1940, f. 92v.).
All over the country, June 8th was
celebrated through thanksgivings, marches,
speeches of the authorities, retreats with torches
etc. keeping, though, a certain sobriety.
In Bucharest, a small gathering took place,
at the Royal Palace, in the presence of patriarch
and civil and military authorities from the capital
(members of government, royal advisers and the
commanders of military units from the capital).
In the evening of June 8th, the National
Guard from Bucharest organized an ‗imposing
manifestation‘ in the square of the Royal Palace,
the march being watched by the King from the
palace‘s balcony (National Archives, Olt, fund
The National Guard of the National Renaissance
Front Olt County, file No. 27/1940, f. 80).
On the occasion of ten years of reign, a
delegation from the National Guard of the
National Renaissance Front, led by general Petre
Georgescu, presented the King Carol II the
homage of the National Guards, under the form
of a parchment artistically handcraft, having the
signatures of all Guard‘s commanders from the
counties (Ibidem).
The text written on the parchment was the
following: ‗June 8th, 1930 – June 8th, 1940.
Homage to H[is] M[ajesty] King Carol II. At the
beginning of the second decade of glorious
reign, the FRN Guards lay at the feet of the
Throne to mark the priceless devotion for their
Sovereign, of who‘s thoughts and desires they
fulfill for the good of the Motherland‘
(‗Romania‘, June 12, 1940; Ţurlea, 2006, 147–
148).
In Craiova, the residence of Olt County,
‗The Day of Restoration and Youth‘ started at
11 with a thanksgiving at the metropolitan
Cathedral, officiated by the mitropolit of
Oltenia, Nifon, and by a synod of priests, in the
presence of all civil and military authorities
38/1940, f. 69).
After the end of the divine service, of the
mitropolit‘s speech and the review of the
company with the flag honour by the royal
resident, the mitropolit along with the
commander of the 30th Infantry division and the
entire assistance went into the park near the
mitropoly, where all the guardians from the
town were gathered. The royal resident, Dinu
Simian, held a speech about the meaning of the
June 8th for the Romanian kind (Ibidem).
The official telegram sent to King Carol II
by Dinu Simian, on behalf of the entire Oltenian
population had the following content: ‗Together
with the entire Romanian nation, the Olt County
presents, in this holy day, its sentiments of deep
respect and wide devotion and asks Your
Majesty to receive the guarantee of the most
respectful love, desirous of any sacrifice for the
strengthening of the Country and for Your
Highness satisfaction. May the days to come
will be for Your Majesty the coronation of every
day‘s struggle, to keep Romania from any
dangers and raise it to unsuspected heights. May
God All Mighty protect Your Majesty‘s steps
and give you a long and immortal Reign. Long
live Your Majesty!, Long live His Majesty
Mihai, the Great Voievod of Alba Iulia!, Long
Live Romania!‘ (‗The Official Bulletin of Olt
County‘, year III, no. 12, June 15, 1940, p. 42).
At 12 o‘clock, the march of the band and
the guardians started in the Unification Square,
and, at the end, the guardians sang the royal
anthem and two guardian‘s songs. The festivities
ended at 13:00 hours. In the evening, at 21:00
hours, the retreat with torches took place
37/1940, f. 43 – 43v.)
Starting with the afternoon until midnight,
the fanfares of Regiments 1 and 6 Dorobanţi
sang in the Unification Square various tunes of
104
The ‗Day of Restoration and Youth‘
represented, between 1938 and 1940, the
affirmation of the cult personality of King Carol
II and the association of youth – ‗the citizens of
tomorrow‘, ‗the new man‘ of Romania – with
the regime enforced on February 10th/11th, 1938.
Staging the pre-established holiday programs
allowed the display within wide public, of some
disciplined ‗cores‘ and propagation, of the idea
of united nation around the Throne, devoted to
King Carol II and his regime.
The monopoly of the central power over
the organisation and deployment of the national
holidays deteriorated the initial message of the
anniversary events – the one of perpetuation at
the level of collective mentality, of the important
moments from Romania‘s history – by exacerbation, of the Ruler‘s cult materialized in the
homages to King Carol II and the new regime.
national music and marches (Ibidem, file No.
38/1940, f. 69v.).
In the rest of the Olt County, June 8th was
celebrated
through
thanksgivings,
with
participation of civil and military authorities, the
army, guardian‘s units, pre-militaries, and a
numerous public. All over the place, the
ceremonies ‗ended with speeches and marches
in the public‘s enthusiasm, and in the evening
there was the retreat with torches‘ (Ibidem, file
No. 37/1940, f. 43v.).
From the numerous speeches held in 1940,
on the occasion of June 8th, we keep the one of
the royal resident of Olt County, which
constitutes a real homage to his sovereign and
his regime. Below is a fragment: ‗Today we
celebrate ten years of reign of H.M.S King Carol
II. All over Romania, praises to God are being
raised, that he has seen us worthy to live in these
times under the wisest and the most Romanian
leadership that our Kind has ever enjoyed over
the ages. [...]
Descendent of a noble and great Dynasty
[…]; Born and raised on Romanian land […],
gifted with superior intelligence – was meant by
God to be a great Romanian and the most
admired and loved King of Romanians from all
times [our underline]. [...] The operas achieved
in this decade cannot be comprised in a speech.
His Majesty King Carol II was called starting
that moment – The Consolidator [our underline].
[...] This is why, today let us be happy, in
the way the Christian is happy in front of the
altar, […], to promise and swear in silence that,
neither with the word, nor with the thought will
not disturb now, nor in the future, that we will
make our life a living example for those to come
after us: that we love and we will sacrifice for
the Kind and King with the same passion with
which the King rules and loves his people […]‘
(‗The official Bulletin of Olt County‘, year III,
no. 12, June 15, 1940, p. 40-42).
King Carol II declared itself satisfied with
the fact that he decided not to organize major
celebrations on the occasion of ‗Restoration‘,
and also with the fact that ‗so many
manifestations of sympathy from all the corners
[of the Country] and from every layers‘
appeared. Also, evaluating the decade of reign,
the king noted the following: ‗Here it came this
day, which means 10 years of reign, 10 years of
hard work and never ending worries. I have the
conscience that I have done all that my powers
allowed me to do and by the coup d‘état from
two years ago I have saved the country from
destruction‘ (Carol II, vol. III, 1998, 196).
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Diana-Mihaela,
Rezidenţa regală a Ţinutului
Olt (1938–1940) [The Royal
Residency of Olt County
(1938-1940)],
Bucureşti,
Romanian Academy Publishing House, 2012.
Sandache, Cristian, Europa
dictaturilor şi originele
războiului româno-sovietic
[The Europe of dictators
and
the
origins
or
Romanian-soviet
war],
Bucureşti, Military Publishing House, 2007.
Scurtu, Ioan, Istoria românilor în timpul celor patru
regi (1866-1947) [History of
Romanians during the four
kings (1866-1947)], vol. III,
Carol al II-lea, Bucureşti,
Encyclopedic
Publishing
House, 2001.
Straja
Ţării,
Direcţia
Îndrumării, Program şi
instrucţiuni 1 septembrie
1939-31
august
1940
[Program and Instructions
September 1, 1939-August
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1939.
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rege: Frontul Renaşterii
Naţionale [Party of a King:
National
Renaissance
Front], Bucureşti, Encyclopedic Publishing House,
2006.
Death and the System Perceptions of the Leader’s Death in Stalinist
Romania
Mihaela GRANCEA
Professor, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University of Sibiu, Romania
E-mail: mihaela_grancea2004@yahoo.com
Abstract. For Marxists, death had a collective signification, an eschatological finality determined
by the ‗cosmology‘ of the social universe. This atheistic alternative to the salvation advanced by universal
religions was realized in and through the mundane world and involved the victory of social space over the
individual, everyone‘s participation to the building of the ‗golden age‘ of global communism, and the
minimization of individual and ‗ordinary‘ (common, banal) death. The social fulfillment of the individual
was the secular equivalent to the salvation promised by religion. Such eschatology completed, in a
fortunate manner as it was believed, the system of continuity through biological reproduction, a
reproduction accomplished in the idyllic environment of the socialist family, seen as the nucleus of
society. The fear of death, seen as physical decomposition and definitive dissolution was compensated by
the belief in the immortality of the human race, in ‗nature and in history,‘ in the perpetuation (in the
collective memory) of the images of individuals who applied (exemplarily) the social communist norm
and who were involved in the accomplishment of the communist project, sometimes with great personal
sacrifices, including their life. Moreover, death as a natural and objective phenomenon was considered a
necessity, because only death made possible the renewal of generations, the emergence of individuals
with new socio-creative abilities; the assumption of this representation was claimed by the process of
individual and collective maturing, by the accomplishment of the communist vision about the world,
history, and society. ‗Communist death,‘ as a variant of ‗democratic death,‘ was a product of discourse, a
segment of ideology, an application of the fraternalist and egalitarian conceptions, a means/occasion to
cultivate solidarities specific to the internationalist and/or national-communist project (the old axiology
that exalted heroism and honor were transformed according to the new intentions of legitimization of a
political project or a representative personality for the egalitarian ideology). Any commemorative
initiative took place (emblematically) under the ideological and discursive patronage of ‗state ethics,‘
determining the individual to take refuge (at best!) in ritualism, mimicking the acceptance of communist
mythologies, which, in fact, meant only conformism and alienation. This study encompasses several
directions of investigation and analysis: the scenography of communist death, obsequies as founding
elements and manifestations of communist identity, commemoration, communist death as heroic death,
the death of the Enemy, the communist epitaph. Various sources: official documents, the press.
Keywords: Death, Leader, Communism, ideology, Salvation
Communist ideologization of death (1)
Death had a collective significance and
eschatological finality for the communists,
obviously imposed by the ‗cosmology‘ of the
social universe. This atheist alternative to
salvation, advanced by universal religions, was
accomplished in and through the mundane
world, involving the victory of the social space
over the individual, everyone‘s participation to
the construction of the ‗golden age‘ project of
global communism, and the minimization of the
individual‘s death as ‗common‘ death. Any kind
of being was thought of as a contribution to the
progress of humanity; it was supposed to ensure
a sort of satisfaction of the need to perpetuate
the memory even of the most anonymous and
harmless of the individuals. The social
accomplishment of the individual was the
secular equivalent of salvation, advanced by
religion. This complex eschatology was
considered, at best, the system of continuity by
biological reproduction, undertaken in the idyllic
framework of the nuclear socialist family. The
fear of death seen as physical annihilation, as
final dissolution (2) was compensated by the
(2) It is also interesting that there were no representations of spectral death or its personifications
in communism, at least in its official iconography.
1
( ) This paper is an extended version of a subchapter
in Grancea, 2007.
107
faith in the immortality of the human species ‗in
nature and in history‘ (Durand 1985) in the
perpetuation (in collective memory) of the
image of individuals who applied (in an
exemplary way) the communist social norm and
were involved in the achievement of the
communist project, sometimes at the expense of
great personal sacrifices, including even their
lives. In addition, death as a natural, objective
phenomenon was considered a necessity, as it
was only death that made possible the renewal
of the society, and the emergence of people with
new social and creative skills; this representation
was acknowledged in the process of individual
and
collective
maturation
and
the
accomplishment of the communist ideal of the
world, history and society.
‗Communist death‘ as a version of
‗democratic death‘ was a discursive product, a
segment of ideology, an application of the
fraternalistic and egalitarian concepts, a means /
opportunity to cultivate solidarities specific to
the international and/or national-communist
project; the old axiology which exalted heroism
and honor was transformed based on the new
legitimating intentions of the political project or
of a personality representative for egalitarian
ideology.
Any commemorative initiative happened
emblematically under the ideological and
discursive patronage of ‗state ethics‘,
determining the individual to take refuge in
rituals, mime the acceptance of ceremonies
which, in fact, was nothing else than
conformism and alienation.
attributes (1) and eponyms (doctrinal and
institutional founders) such as Marx, Engels,
Lenin, or Stalin. The funerals and
commemorations of these ‗founders‘ were
opportunities of public reinforcements of
communist axiology. As an example, on the
occasion of his periodical commemorations,
Lenin was defined as ‗…the guide of the
progressing mankind […], founder of the
glorious Communist Bolshevik Party, founder of
the first socialist state, the state of the most
accomplished democracy‘ (Chişnevschi 1946,
1). In fact, in the years of the ‗building of
socialism‘, Marx, Engels and Lenin (and until
his death and disavowal Stalin as well, as a
‗father of communism‘) became emblematic
figures of communist ideology and practice.
Lenin, as the absolute representative of the
Soviet Union, dominated this period, undergoing
a process of abstractization (as any other
character in fact who represented the motif of
the eponymic hero). The idealization of Lenin‘s
figure was most significantly occasioned in
Romania by the 1949 commemorations of the
Soviet leader. In a ‗festive framework‘ at the
Romanian Atheneum, on the 21st of January, in
front of the leaders of the young ‗popular‘
republic, they eulogized ‗the genius of the
working class and the great teacher of the
revolutionary proletariat‘. (These words were to
be promoted by the entire press the following
day, and applied, successively, to all future
communist leaders). The death of the ‗founding
parent‘ also occasioned the installation of certain
‗corners dedicated to the memory of Lenin‘ (2)
(that is to say, ‗places of memory‘); more than
that, such ‗corners‘ would be dedicated to other
‗heroes‘ from various ‗echelons‘ as well:
international, national, or local. After the
elimination of Stalin‘s cult, Lenin‘s monument
in front of the Casa Scânteii in Bucharest went
on to dominate the space until March 1990,
demonstrating that Lenin had kept his status of
‗eponymic hero‘ of communism regardless of
the instabilities of the system, and preserved it
even in the time of national communism. The
Soviet leader‘s death was transformed into a
founding event of party- and state funerals (Petre
1997, 277), and his corpse became an important
Communist funerals as foundation event
The ideologists of communism, through
narratives and ceremonies (secular feasts),
fabricated and circulated the new mythologies
and images of communist and messianic heroes
(set up by mythological motifs such as the soviet
soldier, the civilizing hero, the illegalist
communist, the altruistic hero as an expression
of humanist communism, the hero who has
sacrificed himself for the happiness of others) as
well as that of the Leader with demiurgic
It was only seen as a phenomenon specific to the
living, the organic, as something invisible. On the
other hand, it was also thought that scientism
would secure in the future the preservation of the
body as well, or perhaps even the elixir of life.
Lenin‘s mummification is, in this perspective, a
manifestation of technicist exultation; so are
cryogenic projects.
(1) The development of this idea is found in Serge,
2001, 123-124.
(2) See the 22 January 1949 issue of the daily
newspaper Scânteia vol. XIII, no. 1331.
108
‗symbolic body‘ (1). The fact that after almost
thirty years the ritual was repeated at Stalin‘s
death (evidently, without the element of
mummification, and with a couple of new details
in the script of the funeral ceremony)
demonstrates that this particular cult form was
central to the communist political rites and
constituted the substance of ‗communist
funerary anthropology‘ (as a form of symbolic
legitimacy, then for Stalin and later for other
communist leaders). It also functioned as a
funerary cult which consecrated the pattern of
heroic ‗communist death‘ in its essence, even if
communist leaders passed away simply as a
result of the trivial manifestation of natural
death. This approach seemed quite unequivocal,
at least from the perspective of the logic of
communism as an inaugural system. The cult of
the founder / patron / eponymic hero became a
source of political legitimation and infallibility.
Lenin‘s mummy was kept in a mausoleum with
a threefold function: a funeral monument, a
‗place of memory‘ functioning as a pilgrimage
site for the Soviets and tourists from socialist
countries, and a tribune for official parades. The
corporeal immortality of the founder hero
preserved through mummification is however an
abuse of any eschatological initiative. The
mummified Lenin (‗functional‘ as a protective
and ubiquitous figure) was conceived as an
expression of the perennial communist
pantheon,
a
proof
of
the
system‘s
indestructibility (the process of building
communism was considered an irreversible one,
a Time in time, a Time that would radically
change the course of history), and an essential
place of collective memory. Lenin‘s image was
created by formulas such as ‗father of
communism‘ (alongside Marx, Engels and
Stalin), ‗a giant of thought and will‘, ‗Lenin –
the prototype of the future man‘. These samples
of political liturgy came to be used obsessively,
to saturation, any time a communist leader died
who managed to keep his place in the system
nomenclature until his death, and who by his
image ‗applied‘ the eponymic and eschatological
model. At least this is how things look like from
the perspective of propaganda. The language of
obituaries practiced in the Soviet power space
became a source of inspiration. Expressions
from V. Mayakovsky‘s poem Lenin were
adapted or even copied in texts in the press
written for the death of other communist leaders;
according to it, these deaths caused ‗an ocean of
pain‘, because those who ‗left‘ only physically
the life of the community were the most human
of all people, just like Lenin about whom the
Russian poet stated in 1924 that he was ‗the
most human of all humans who have lived on
earth‘. Adrian Cioroianu thinks however that
Stalin‘s funerals were the ‗primordial‘ model,
copied at the ceremonies of other natural deaths
(2). Whether worshipped, hated, or regarded with
certain
detachment
by his
Romanian
contemporaries, Stalin‘s death marked, at least
for a few days, the life of the Romanian society.
Taking the risk that it may dilute the subject
under scrutiny, I will still give some details
about Stalin‘s funeral, unpublished interviews as
well as information from published sources. The
texts I have reproduced in this study display the
ways how the perception of funerary events and
(most times approximate) chronologies vary,
and
how
mental
cut-outs
functioned
(determined, of course, by the intellectual and
political background of the informer). The first
account, short and relevant primarily for the
manner in which the simple and quite
uninhibited person perceived the event, indicates
a certain kind of indifference and affective
distance (the ‗witness‘ seems to be bothered
more by the Russian cold weather than by the
funerary event): ‗I did my army service for 3
years, from 1952 to 1955. When Stalin died, we
were sent to Moscow, we even sentinelled at his
bier. Stalin died in March, it was a frosty winter,
the snow was thick. I remember we wore padded
coats and caps with ear protectors. There was a
huge crowd. The funeral wasn‘t a usual one,
Stalin was guarded by the army, he was kept at
the Kremlin, and buried at daytime. He didn‘t
really have any family to mourn for him. Stalin
had no parents, wasn‘t married any longer,
people knew he had a babe in Romanian, the socalled ‗Lupoaica‘ [‗She-wolf‘]; some people
were sorry for his death, others were happy for
it. He was clothed in army clothes, had his
weapon with him too, his face was uncovered,
(2) The author compares some sequences of the
funeral of Gheorghe Gheorghiu Dej with the
―canonic‖ ceremony imposed after Stalin‘s death:
―…guard at the mournful painting in the office of
Dej in the building of the Central Committee,
guard at the bier, the blazon of the RCP
[Romanian Communist Party] placed higher than
the blazon of the Republic, the ―meeting of
mourning‖ at the official tribune in the Piaţa
Republicii, the funeral cortege, and the visiting of
the monument in Parcul Libertăţii‖. See Cioroianu
2005, 389.
(1) This is a concept used by anthropologist Katherine
Verdery in relation to the funerals of political
leaders, in Verdery, 1999.
109
Stalin, the author of the ‗Red Holocaust‘, for
Stalin, the failed seminary student who became a
communist leader and killed thousands of priests
and leaders of the Orthodox Church on the
territory of the Soviet Union, demolished
churches or transformed them into warehouses,
silos, recreational areas for the ‗working people‘
(ballrooms, halls for performances or sports), or,
at best, into museums (only a small part of them,
those for which their age or architectural-artistic
value justified this status). Officially, it was
suggested that collective suffering prevailed.
The ‗grief‘ was imposed by the official party
press; in fact the only press there was in the
country (2). The Scânteia and other dailies like
România Liberă and Contemporanul announced
national mourning for the days of 6−9 March.
For that period, all radios of the ‗communist
camp‘ only broadcast funeral music. Petre Zoe,
referring to this aspect of the funerals, claims
that any symphonic music seemed too ‗difficult‘
and depressing to the culturniks, but since it
induced a state of sadness, it was considered
appropriate for the period of mourning (Petre
1997, 272). However, it could have also been the
need for legitimation, for seeking similarities
with state funerals as they were organized in
Europe and America ever since the modernity,
with all possible solemnity. Articles about Stalin
were published for a whole week (from the
announcement of the dictator‘s death until 13
March). Among those who wrote the obituaries
in the name of the Party and the working class,
there were also Romanian writers who made
compromises with the system and accepted to be
the public voices of communist ideology,
crediting it with the prestige they had gained in
the time of inter-war democracy. Mihail
Sadoveanu, for instance, wrote about ‗The great
genius of progressing mankind‘, G. Călinescu
about ‗A gigantic figure of history‘. Writers
Camil Petrescu, Geo Bogza, Cezar Petrescu,
poet Eugen Jebeleanu (in addition to a host of
official and minor poets), scientists C.I. Parhon
he could be seen by anyone. The army carried
him on their shoulders to the bier, that is, the
place where he was buried, the mausoleum. We
stayed six days in Moscow, until he was buried‘
(1). There are plenty of complementary
testimonies about the Romanian reactions as
well, at thousands of kilometers away from the
event. A memorial fragment by Dan Ciachir
stands as evidence for the double discourse
prevalent in Romania on Stalin‘s death: ‗4
March 1953… Finally. The news that humanity
had been expecting for years, the news for which
our people – with other peoples condemned to
the same suffering – had been imploring the
heavens day and night, desperately, with tears of
blood – has arrived. Stalin was hit by the wings
of death. He is not dead yet, but can be counted
as dead. (…) At 8 in the evening, everyone
knew: ‗the communiqué on the serious illness of
comrade Stalin‘ was broadcast on the radio.
General rejoicing, jubilation, shouting in the
families‘ […] ‗In Bucharest, of course, there is
official grievance. But the people of Bucharest
rejoice. Although the selling of alcoholic
beverages was suspended – so that people
shouldn‘t get drunk for happiness – I saw on the
tram a drunken citizen who could barely stand
on his feet. He stank of wine from miles. He got
off at a bus stop. ―Our father died‖, that‘s all he
could say, and bang! fell off the stairs of the
tram. But he got up quickly and while the tram
was about to leave, the citizen greeted from the
middle of the street the vehicle and the crowd on
it with a long and significant ―Hurray!‖ Nobody
said a word, but everybody approved‘ (Pericle
Martinescu apud Ciachir 2008, 5). The context
produced other hilarious situations as well,
because the 6th of March, when Stalin‘s death
was announced, was also a day of national
celebration for the Romanians (the Petru Groza
government was imposed on 6 March 1945,
which thus meant the outset of Romania‘s communization); therefore the authorities were
hesitating – should they decorate in celebration
the ‗places of memory‘ of communism or should
they lower the flag at half-mast? The death of
the tyrannical Stalin, the oppressor of the
Russian Orthodox Church, led to confusion also
among the priesthood. Concretely, the priests of
the Romanian Patriarchy should have had to ring
the bells like for any funeral, they had to do it,
and they did it on the indications of Patriarchal
Vicar Bishop Antim Nica; they rang the bells for
(2) The Scânteia, the organ of the Central Committee
of the Romanian Labor Party, announced on the
first page, in black frame: ‗Comrade Iosif Vissarionovich Stalin passed away.‘ Under the title
there was the communiqué of Moscow and on the
right side the photograph of Stalin, with an
unsigned text below it, written in bold: ―For the
Romanian people, I.V. Stalin is the dear friend,
the liberator, the provider, who has opened wide
their way to happiness, helping with parental care
to build a new, socialist life‖. Scânteia, no. 2006
(6 March 1953).
(1) The informer Petre Rădulescu is a 76-year-old
pensioner from Caracal, Olt county, attended
seven classes (interview made on 22 June 2007).
110
and Traian Săvulescu constructed the image of a
collective apocalypse with the pathos specific to
‗wooden language‘, as if Stalin‘s death had been
a milestone, a fundamental chronological
reference point in the history of humanity. It was
as if the world existed in two eras, before and
after the death of Stalin; it conveyed the
impression that a global existential crisis had
been unleashed. When Stalin‘s body was laid to
rest in the mausoleum near the Kremlin on 9
May 1953, 11 o‘clock in the morning
(Moscow‘s time), in Bucharest a ‗meeting of
mourning‘ was held in the Piaţa I.V. Stalin
(today, the Aviators Boulevard), where at that
time there was a statue of Stalin (at the entrance
to Herăstrău Parc, which back then was still
called ‗I.V. Stalin Park for Culture and
Relaxation‘). During this while, any activity
halted (‗in factories and plants‘, in schools, even
circulation stopped). Thousands of seemingly
grievous people participated at the meeting.
Commemorative speeches were uttered and the
usual gun salute was fired. In Moscow, the
delegation of the Romanian Labor Party took
part at the funerals, led by the three most
important people of ‗party and state‘, GheorgheGheorghiu Dej (president of the Council of
Ministers), Gheorghe Apostol (First Secretary of
the Party), and Petru Groza (president of the
Presidium of the Great National Assembly).
Although many analysts of the time argued that
the Romanians were not affected by the death of
Stalin, there are some testimonies to demonstrate
that ideology and Russian influence was still
efficient to some degree, and for some of the
Romanians Stalin had indeed been a paternal
figure: ‗One of the members of the party
committee in the factory, a simple man who
could barely read, was crying and while his tears
were running down his face, he lamented: <Why
him, our father, why did he have to die?>‗ (from
the memoirs of Ştefănescu, 2005, 42). Apart
from the anecdotic, another fragment of
memoirs catches the essence of the Romanian
perceptions on the significance of Stalin‘s death:
‗Here, lots of people and big fuss (the author,
graduate of the Faculty of Economic Sciences,
was in the faculty building to receive his
graduation diploma, a.n.). Some have gloomy, if
not really sad faces, and look as if struck by a
deep pain. Others however, after composing a
sad face, and ostentatiously displaying it, lighten
up when they meet an acquaintance. You can
never tell who experiences truly the graveness of
the moment when they heard that Stalin exists
no longer, and who simulates only this
experience […] We arrive at the Casa Scânteii,
where long queues of people dressed in
mourning were paying homage to Stalin. They
all walked in silence as it is proper for Christians
to go to a funeral. Here and there one can see
participants crying. Some women and children
shed true tears. On our way back, we see that no
more are seen of these forms of hysteria or
perversion of the souls of some by those who,
regarding themselves as opinion formers, were
paid to glorify Stalin.‘ (Oprea 2006, 117-118).
The writer of the memoir, as well as the author
of this paper, finds interesting the opinion of a
participant (‗an elderly man‘) about the way
people relate to the death of politicians,
therefore to this substitute funeral: ‗You are
young, have no life experience, so you probably
don‘t know that the people who cry today for
Stalin‘s death tomorrow may recognize their
naivety. It‘s not only about Stalin. Generally
speaking, no tears must be shed on the day a
politician dies, only later, after you find out who
this man really was and if he deserves to be
mourned…‘
Stalin‘s funerals, regardless of whether he
was worshiped or hated, offered not only a
highly ritualistic political scenario copied as any
foundational event, but also a memorable event
which marked the end of an age. This is the
approach of one of the journalists of the time, a
participant and witness to Stalin‘s funerals
(Toma, 2004): ‗Stalin‘s death was perceived in
the communist world – which then, in 1953,
comprised a third of the world‘s population – as
a gigantic cataclysm. It was almost
incomprehensible for many people. How could
He have disappeared, the Leader, the Friend, the
Teacher of the world‘s proletariat, of the Soviet
people, and the peoples of the popular
democratic countries? How will it be without
him? Members of one and the same family,
some were truly grieving. Others, on the
contrary, sighed relieved. Personally – I see no
reason to hide it – I was very impressed. […] A
huge crowd headed to one hall (the Columns
Hall, a.n.) to bid farewell to the great leader. The
streets were blocked by big military trucks,
ordered <face to face>, only leaving a narrow
passage fitting only one, or at most two persons.
Our delegation had the honor to stand guard
twice near the bier, at a distance of six hours
(this is the delegation led by the political leaders
of the time, the ‗leaders of the party and the
state‘, a.n.). An endless crowd passed in front of
the bier: men, women, soldiers, pupils. Many
were weeping, especially women. After the
funeral there were rumors that at some passage
points at the above mentioned barriers so many
111
people gathered in time that the usual police
forces couldn‘t stand up to them and called the
militia cavalry. I found out much later, from a
novel of a Soviet writer, what had happened in
fact. She emphasized the contrast between the
calm and grave atmosphere of the farewell
ceremony in the Columns Hall and the brutality
of the street, where the militia cavalry ran over,
beat, crushed with the hooves of their horses the
people who came to honor the deceased. The
writer saw this horrible contrast as a symbol of
the age that was coming to an end. (…)‘. It
seemed that both for the Soviets and the other
peoples of the ‗Eastern camp‘ Stalin was the
Patriarch cementing the global empire of
communism, an eponymic and tutelary figure
(1), a mythological synthesis of a promethean
epitome and the power of the Fisher King (2).
The communist press of Romania seemed to be
overtaken by a delirious pro-Stalinist discourse
over the death of the dictator, the overloaded
language being the most efficient part of the
joint action of commemorating the Leader. The
regional committees of the Romanian Labor
Party decided the structure of the mourning
manifestations even in the most insignificant
settlements. Moreover, for small towns this was
an opportunity to showcase the eager efficiency
of their local party and state organs (3).
Evidently, on the large scale it has been
attempted to connect consensually to the events
in Moscow, where the days of 6-9 March 1953
were days of mourning. Therefore, starting with
the 6th of March, in Bucharest ‗tens of thousands
of people‘ (4) signed the Register of the Embassy
of the Soviet Union on Kiseleff Boulevard,
displaying their grief over Stalin‘s death. There
were ‗meetings of mourning‘ everywhere in the
country, collective and individual letters were
sent to the editorial offices of daily newspapers
(5). The editorials, commemorative articles,
obituaries, poems (6) kept repeating the same
words and formulas over and over again as a
litany, speaking about the ‗genial teachings‘ of
the deceased, about the ‗shining example‘ he
embodied (considering that the exemplarity of
the famous Leader urged the ‗surviving‘ peoples
to unity and celebration through Stakhanovite
work.)
Those who definitely exulted on hearing
the news about Stalin‘s death were, no doubt,
the political prisoners. For them, the news was
the equivalent of hope and salvation: ‗the earth
has taken daddy, let the devil have his cursed
soul‘, the prisoners at the Danube Channel kept
repeating this, in their anticipation of the
collapse of the global empire (Cârjă 1993, 478).
Stalin‘s funerals are a generous subject for
documentaries on malefic characters of 20thcentury totalitarian regimes (see, for instance,
films such as those produced by Discovery
Channel) (7). For us, they offer the chance of
studying how the witnesses of the
commemorative event related to the emotional
load, real (let us think of phenomena of
emotional contagion) or simulated, during the
displays of mourning (‗meetings‘) occasioned in
Romania by the funeral of Stalin, a different
kind of funeral, performed without the physical
body of the deceased.
In most cases of communist funeral
ceremonies, the death of the Leader meant his
(1) Dej himself glorified Stalin, calling him: ―The
liberator and beloved father of peoples, our
unforgettable leader and teacher, the genius of the
working people‖ (see the text in Pravda no. 66,
1953, reproduced in the central and local press in
Romania, too: Flacăra Sibiului, vol. X, no. 2287,
Tuesday, 10 March 1953, p. 1.
(2) Before the time of the ―great terror‖ when the fear
contributed to the sublimation of the dictator,
Stalin was worshiped as an ancient deity, a god of
fertility.
(3) See in this respect a document issued during the
days of mourning by the RLP Regional
Committee Vâlcea (see Raport de Activitate
[Activity report] Fond. 17, folder. no. 6, fl. 17.
(4) This phrase (―tens of thousands‖), a ―consecrated‖
approximation, was favored in all official
documents and in the communist press, any time
the number of participants to ―epochal‖ events
had to be assessed; this participation had to
express, ―to translate‖, in the language and
perception of the age, the positive attitude of the
society towards celebrations, commemorations
and funerals.
(5) See also the letter of Iosif Cioni, the Stakhanovite
locksmith (―Balanţa‖ factory of Sibiu) or the
telegram of Ioan Paşu (―member of the ―Tractorul
Roşu‖ agricultural husbandry of Cristian, Sibiu
county). These texts were published in Flacăra
Sibiului, vol. X, no. 2287, Tuesday, 10 March
1953, p. 3.
(6) See: ―Tonight the dear light at the familiar
window of the Kremlin, that we got used to
silently watch over us until dawn, didn‘t light up.
We know that tonight the hottest heart ceased to
beat; a heart that for years, relentlessly, beat with
a father‘s love. Our face is petrified with pain and
our gaze is sad and dewy… […] takes an Oath to
take the inheritance further.‖ (Avram 1953)
(7) See such documentaries at: http://documentare.
digitalarena.ro
112
leaving the field of the profane and entering the
space of political mythology.
Moscovici
2001
References
Avram, Mircea, ‗O inimă a
Avram
încetat să bată‘ [A heart has
1953
stopped to beat]. In: Flacăra
Sibiului 2288 (1953), p. 4.
Chişnevschi Chişnevschi, Iosif, Lenin. In
Scânteia, 20 January (1946),
1946
Bucureşti, p. 1.
Ciachir, Dan, Moartea lui
Ciachir
Stalin, bucuria românilor?
2008
[Stalin’s death, the happiness of
Romanians?]. In: Ziua 4182,
Thursday (13 martie 2008), p. 5.
Books:
Cârjă 1993
Cioroianu
2005
Grancea
2007
Oprea
2006
Ştefănescu
2005
Toma 2004
Verdery
1999
Cârjă, Ion, Canalul morţii [The
channel of death], Bucureşti,
Cartea Românească, 1993.
Cioroianu, Adrian, Pe urmele lui
Marx. O introducere în istoria
comunismului
românesc
[In
Marx’s footsteps. Introduction in
the
history
of
Romanian
communism], Bucureşti, Curtea
Veche, 2005.
Grancea, Mihaela, Reprezentări
ale morţii în România epocii
comuniste.
Trei
studii
de
antropologie funerară [Death
Representations
during
Communist
Romania],
Cluj-
Napoca, Casa Cărţii de Ştiinţă,
2007.
Moscovici, Serge, Epoca maselor
[The age of masses], Iaşi,
Institutul European, 2001.
Oprea, Ion M., Însemnări din
Şcoala Tăcerii [Notes from the
School of Silence], Chişinău, Prut
Internaţional, 2006.
Ştefănescu, Gheorghe Rafael,
Amintiri din România socialistă
[Memories
from
socialist
Romania], Arad, Mirador, 2005.
Toma, Sorin, Privind înapoi.
Amintirile unui fost ziarist
[Looking back. Memories of a
former journalist], Bucureşti,
Compania, 2004.
Verdery, Katherine, The Political
Lives of Dead Bodies, New York,
Columbia University Press, 1999.
Chapters in books:
Durand Durand, Guy, L’expérience de la
mort. In Guy Couturier, Essais sur la
1985
mort, Montréal, Ed. Fides, 1985.
Petre, Zoe, ‗Adio, scump tovarăş!
Petre
Schiţă de antropologie funerară
1997
comunistă‘ [Adios, dear comrade! A
sketch of communist funerary
anthropology]. In Lucian Boia,
Miturile comunismului românesc
[Myths of Romanian communism],
vol. II, Bucharest University Press,
1997, p. 272-284.
113
The Soviet Hero-Making Process. Aspects of the Soviet Heroism
Olga GRĂDINARU
PhD Student, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University of Cluj, Romania
Comparative Literature Department
E-mail: olgagradinaru@gmail.com
Abstract. The present work is focused on revealing the heroic ingredient in the Soviet prose,
tracing its origin back to the medieval heroic poem The Tale of Igor’s Campaign, Russian folklore and
continued by Russian writers of the 19th century that brought a change of accent. A conceptual evolution
of the ‗heroic deed‘ (podvig) is provided, as well as the analysis of the most important changes of the
heroic and heroism in the Soviet literature, taking into account the great importance of L. Tolstoy‘s novel
War and Peace and its defining traits, while depicting the Russian national character. The study analyzes
the semantic and representational changes of heroism from L. Tolstoy‘s war prose to revolutionary prose,
civil war prose and prose of the Second World War, highlighting the Soviet hero-making process.
Key words: Soviet heroism, heroic deed, Socialist Realism, Second World War, representation
Heroic deed – Conceptual Evolution
Before approaching the aspects of the
Soviet heroism we must take into consideration
the specificity of the Russian concept podvig,
which is usually translated as ‗heroic deed‘. In
his historical-linguistic study, V. V. Vinogradov
reveals the meaning changes of the verb
podvigat` and podvignut` related to other words
from the same family – podvizhnik,
podvizhnichestvo, podvizhnicheskij, related
words that generated in Russian language terms
like podvizhnicheskaja literatura (translated
probably closer to its meaning as ‗ascetic
literature‘) and podvizhnicheskij geroizm
(Vinogradov 1989, 253-263). The word comes
from Slavic and it is of bookish origin from the
11-15th centuries, although the cognate words
and phrases have usage in the spoken language
as well, aspect that contributes to the multitude
of meanings and usage contexts (especially in
the case of the verb podvizhat`sia and the noun
podvig. The author of the study mentions that
along the 19th century takes place a ‗gradual
extinction of the meanings of the verb favouring
the one accepted and used nowadays – to come
to the front in a certain area, to act, to work, fact
that generated the semantic break between the
verb and the noun‘. As for the noun podvig, it
had a different semantic area, and a clear
example of this would be A. S. Pushkin‘s poems
where the noun has the meaning ‗heroic deed,
dignified deed‘ with some nuances that are also
gradually forgotten. In order to testify this
perspective, we might say that Slovar`
The Slavic and Russian heroism is not an
issue separated from the Indo-European heroic
matters and heroism, since it has been
influenced and shaped by both ancient Asian and
European heroic epics and songs. Heroic accents
from the Epic of Gilgamesh, passing through
Homer‘s epics and the Greek tragedy are to be
identified in the Slavic heroic epics and Russian
Romantic poetry with patriotic tunes. The
Russian pre-revolution writings and the Soviet
times had contributed to some semantic changes
of the heroic matters, leaving some ideological
and political traces in the literary texts and in the
mental perception of the people. Hegelian
‗heroic century‘ gave birth to different
perceptions of the ‗hero‘ related to ‗great
historical personalities‘, and this is relevant on
the Russian soil, as we have Leninism (and
leniniada in literature), Stalinist era (and even
Stalinist civilization), Khrushchev era (and
Khrushchev‘s Thaw), Gorbachev era (and his
glasnost` and perestroika). It is obvious that
despite Marxist conception of the state as an
instrument of the class rule and despite the
French Annals School vision focused more on
civilization then on individual role certain
personalities of the Soviet Union left their
personal trace on certain historical periods. The
undertaken perspective of this study is situated
rather on a balanced vision between various
heterogeneous elements of history with an
accent on the literary area.
114
tserkovno-slavjansogo i russkogo jazyka of the
1847 recognizes only one meaning of the related
verb – ‗realizing an important, difficult task‘, the
meaning becoming widely used and being
related to something great and significant (1847,
251).
Another researcher highlights that the
Russian meaning of the word podvig is oriented
toward the change of the negative state of things,
having the echo of the mythical beginnings (and
thus presenting a godly hero) or of the
absoluteness of non-personal mythical figures
(and presenting a diminished role of creative
powers) (Trofimova 2007, 49). Trofimova points
out the main Russian thinkers to approach the
subject of the hero‘s podvig – N. Mikhailovsky,
P. Lavrov and then developed by S. Bulgakov,
N. Lossky, S. Frank who reflected mostly
Dostoevsky‘s creative influence, concluding that
in Russian national conscience the hero is
destined not only for society education, but also
for its energy mobilization. The hero and
heroism issue is regarded from the Marxist
position at the end of the 19th century and the
beginning of the 20th century. Relevant
approaches to be mentioned are G. Plekhanov‘s
work and A. Lunacharsky‘s study with
incorporated revolutionary ideals. The dissonant
note in this context is N. Berdyaev‘s spiritualmystical approach on podvig, its trigger and
functioning. N. Karamzin points out the
importance of being prepared to ‗heroic deed‘ in
Russian mentality, this fact being linked to the
historical necessity of defending the land
(Karamzin 1980).
The category of the ‗heroic deed‘ – podvig
– or of the ‗great deed‘ at war has a double
origin: the epic-historical origin with the climax
in the realistic prose of L. N. Tolstoy and the
revolutionary origin in the 19th century in the
revolutionary writings, especially in the case of
Chernyshevsky‘s novel What Is to Be Done?
(1863). The latter had a special development
later with an ideological connotation. Modifying
the meaning of the ‗heroic deed‘ from the
battlefield to the daily peaceful context takes
place in the period of forming and introducing
the Socialist Realism as the official method,
doctrine and manner of representation in the
Soviet Union. The daily reality of contributing
to the construction of the desirable ‗golden
future‘ of communism is characterized by the
daily ‗heroic deed‘ of the simple Soviet worker
or peasant, being involved in this so-called
glorious process. The strategy of involving the
masses
in
building
something
great,
ideologically speaking, couldn‘t have been
possible without the necessary propaganda of
the daily ‗heroic deed‘, presented in the Soviet
product novels with subject from the daily
Soviet reality. Making literature and art
accessible to the masses was the main aim of the
Socialist Realism doctrine and this involved the
change of the subjects, motives and way of
representing reality. Refusing the nuances,
Katerina Clark mentions the fact that the
Socialist Realist novel is a case of ‗modal
schizophrenia‘, as it is based on a ‗fatal split‘:
depicting ‗what is‘ and ‗what ought to be‘ (Clark
2000, 36-45). The daily ‗heroic deed‘ from
product novels coexisted with the literature of
revolutionary inspiration and with the literature
of the civil war with the revolutionary ‗heroic
deed‘.
This dual parentage of the Soviet ‗heroic
deed‘ (of medieval war origin and daily building
future of revolutionary origin) is the explanation
for the ambiguous and guileful character of what
podvig became in the Soviet prose in general
and war prose in particular. Actually, the Soviet
literary discourse took over the form and gave it
a new semantic meaning of ideological nature so
that the result is a concept with strong patriotic
meaning with different overtones than in the
case of Leo Tolstoy.
The Soviet Encyclopedia (Bol`shaja
Sovetskaja Entsiklopedija) points out the fact
that ‗greatness of the heroic deed is not
conferred by the abstract self-sacrifice of
personality, but by its historic international
content, participation at the progressive
movement of peoples for the victory of
Communism, which ensures peace, work and
liberty to man‘ (1971, 423). The ‗heroic deed‘ of
war times becomes daily, accessible, and
peaceful and lacking the original heroism,
brought in the environment of the daily fights
and patriotic motivations of a questionable
exuberance. The transmutation that intervened at
the level of war actions is the result of the
mental and emotional change of the category of
‗new men‘ – a transformation like metanoia of
homo sovieticus. The newly formed so-called
Soviet people as the main character of the war
writings is characterized by the ‗heroic deed‘ of
the new type with its new multiple ingredients,
having its origin in the new
Soviet patriotism.
Introductory Elements
Speaking about the Slavic context, the
main source of heroism may be considered The
Tale of Igor’s Campaign (claimed to be from the
12th century) along with heroic tales (byliny) of
115
local heroes (bogatyr`) and heroic elements that
pervade the Russian fairy-tales. According to V.
Propp the Russian byliny reflect not only
historical events, but also people‘s ideals over
centuries (Propp 1958, 7). On the folkloric realm
we talk about military heroism and the heroes
(bogatyri meaning ‗God searcher‘, ‗defender of
God‘ of Asian origin or vityaz` meaning
‗powerful, courageous man‘ probably of
Sanskrit origin) are warriors, represented
according to certain literary norms comparable
to hagiographical norms.
Igor‘s portrait from the mentioned epic
poem is built according to the traditions of the
epic style of the medieval chronicles,
representing the image of the knyaz` in
superlative tone with highly valued traits. Even
though the attitude toward the expedition is a
critical one, the heroic perspective even in the
case of Igor‘s death is the one that may be
considered partly responsible for the later Soviet
conviction that heroic doesn‘t admit failures,
that there are no defeated dying people, only
heroes, and there are no minor deeds at war,
only great deeds. The character of a symbol of
the hero dying in battle is depicted in this heroic
poem with the help of the folkloric elements,
and of great significance is Jaroslavna‘s mourn
lament. The patriotism is present due to two
main devices – the greatness of the Russian land
(Russia-mother – Rus`-matushka) and nature,
and the people represented as being in close
connection with the land so that Russia seems a
living creature, an organism. As for the author‘s
intention, it was interpreted later that it exceeded
the simple presentation of the military campaign
in 1185. The patriotic tones may be the ones to
contribute to the unification of the Slavic tribes,
represented as being scattered and tormented by
conflicts, also expressing the ideal of brothers‘
love (bratoljubie). Trofimova mentions in her
article that Russian patriotism is always about
defending Motherland, but although this may be
true concerning the two world wars, it can‘t be
true regarding Igor‘s military campaign and
regarding the Soviet expanding political
influence and Russian geographical borders
(Trofimova 2007, 50). The Soviet return to
medieval times and narratives is not an
accidental approach, as the same strategy of
representing Russia as the elder brother and all
other republics as smaller sisters was used in the
Soviet times.
The Russian heroism and patriotism of the
later century was represented in the Kulikov
cycle, especially in The Tale of Mamaev Battle,
where the central figure is Dmitry Donskoy and
his great qualities and military capacities. The
patriotic theme is the central one in the literature
of the 19th century in the case of Nekrasov,
Lermontov, depicting the outstanding heroism of
the Russian soldier in battle and the heroism of
the Russian people. Borodino poem brings into
the foreground the glorious deeds of the Russian
soldiers who died in 1812, becoming the symbol
of victory in the conscience of the Russian
people and a source of inspiration for Tolstoy
and the battle scenes in War and Peace (1869).
A slight semantic change on the notions of
heroic and heroism is brought by Chernyshevsky
and his novel What is to Be Done? (1863), due
to the suggested directions in the social-political
area and searching of the traits of ‗new men‘.
Thus, we may talk about heroism in the case of
fighting against the cultural stereotypes,
especially in the case of woman‘s place in
society. Chernyshevsky‘s heroism is of a
polemic nature due to doubting the bourgeois
cultural norms of the 19th century, making place
to other meanings and directions to follow
ideally and ideologically. This modification that
aims to presents another social order is
responsible, along with other writings of those
times, for a major cultural mutation that made
possible the implementation of the socialist
revolutionary ideas on the Russian soil, the
Russian Revolution and, together with this, the
redefinition of heroism and its proclamation as
national trait for the new Soviet man.
L. Tolstoy’s Heroic Heritage
The heroism represented by Leo Tolstoy
not only in War and Peace, but also in
Sevastopol Sketches is connected to the Russian
national character, becoming a ‗national feeling‘
and hidden aspect of patriotism. The main
character of Sevastopol Sketches (1855) is,
according to the author, the ‗truth itself‘ about
the man at war, aspect that, among others,
culminated in Tolstoy‘s supreme artistic
achievement in War and Peace. The spiritual
victory in Borodino battle from the mentioned
novel is depicted as part of the patriotic feeling
of the Russian people. The individual dimension
and the personal deed (that became specific to
the Soviet war prose) are lost in the bigger
picture of a fighting people as united entity
against the enemy. The fact that Andrei
Bolkonski‘s soldiers continue to fight despite the
lack of food and rest, loosing lives continuously,
represents evidence of determination to fight and
full dedication to the cause of Motherland
defence. Accomplishing the duty of citizen and
soldier is transformed in ‗heroic deed‘ when
116
the ‗totalitarian‘ and ‗chivalrous‘ war by
recognizing the human value of the enemy, an
aspect that not only is not present in the Soviet
war prose, but it is also replaced by the patterns
and ideological models of war.
Tolstoy‘s patriotism is, at the same time,
related to humanism, an aspect that may be
attributed to the veracious and plausible
character of the classic Russian Realism,
distorted later ideologically by the Socialist
Realism. The element of affective and patriotic
unity of the man with the people is present in
War and Peace especially in case of Pierre
Bezukhov who realizes that the authentic
happiness relies in this merger with the simple
people, being part of its destiny. The fate of the
Russian people in a difficult historic period, as
well as the role of the people in overcoming this
situation, is one of the main preoccupations of
the author, being the reflection of his historical
conception and his convictions regarding the
importance of the people in modeling the
history. In Tolstoy‘s vision, it is not the
historical personalities who play the decisive
role at war, but the will and involvement of the
people, people‘s fighting spirit and unity
fighting the enemy, aspects that contributed to
perceiving the novel in the Soviet era as national
epic of the heroic deed of the Russian people in
1812.
The patriotism of the Russian people is not
represented by various decisions of the simple
people facing the attackers, while the patriotic
feeling is not depicted in superlatives and
ideological explanations, but through direct and
simple words and deeds. The war may be
regarded as the supreme test that reveals national
traits and highlights the spiritual strength of the
Russian people, offering the status of the victor.
While many Soviet writers pretended to have
written in Tolstoy‘s tradition and many literary
critics have praised similar attempts, few are
those writers who may truly claim this literary
parentage, being given the social and political
changes, as well as the instauration of the
Socialist Realism and its patterns of
representation that were bearers of ideological
content.
people who were of the upper class refused the
comfort and protection offered by the social
status and, as Bolkonski, got involved on the
battlefield. We have access through Pierre
Bezukhov to Raevski‘s heroism and we witness
Bezukhov‘s amazement while losing personal
identity in the army that is represented as a
heroic entity and unity facing danger.
The image of the common man involved
in battle reveals the ideologically unstained
patriotism and the power of will and the Russian
spirit. Inhabitants leaving their towns, soldiers
being united by the desire to see their country at
peace, partisans fighting in dangerous operations
against the invaders, soldiers dying on the
battlefield are as many aspects of a complete
picture of the novel that became as many facets
and arguments of the prevailing heroic discourse
of the Soviet literary critics.
The profile of Mikhail Kutuzov,
characterized by the interest for his fighters
more than the victory itself, is used as an
example and a prototype in the prose of the
Second World War due to this sensibility to
soldiers‘ needs and humanism (1). Kutuzov is
characterized by ‗common traits of the old man‘
and an essential trait – ‗popular feeling‘ – that
contributed to a successful recovery of Russian
territories. This commander is the embodiment
of the simple Russian man; he appeared to be the
simple and common man, talking simply and
doing simple things, urging and encouraging
through his closeness toward the people and
powerful patriotic feeling. Kutuzov may be
regarded as the ideal of the historical personality
and ideal of the Russian man due to this
inclination toward the Russian people and spirit
of the army. He himself urges the soldiers to
show mercy for the captures enemies, saying
that when the enemies were strong, they needed
to be defeated, but now they need to be shown
mercy. In Berdyaev‘s reading this urge is the
mirror of the Russian people‘s superiority,
mentioning the biggest human temptation as the
‗temptation of victory‘ and referring to the
paradox of dialectics of power and victory
(Berdyaev 1993, 306-311). While the victory
supposes power and moral power, it can also
transform itself easily in violence, destroying the
moral character of power, leading to the central
theme of the relationship between spirit and
power. Berdyaev reveals the difference between
The Russian-Soviet Transition. Brief Analysis
of the Key Soviet Literary Works
The transition and transfer age of Russian
national values on the politically new born
‗Soviet people‘ were made with the help of
some important names in shaping the image of
the Soviet man – M. Gorky, A. Fadeyev, N.
Ostrovsky, A. Tolstoy are just several names
(1) An example would be Vaskov from B. Vasilyev‘s
The Dawns Here Are Quiet (1972), who supports
and trains the members of his troop, encouraging
and admonishing equally when it was the case.
117
from the literary area to begin with. They
contributed not only to modifying the role and
nature of literature on the Soviet ground, but
also to building a different type of literary hero
to serve to newly established literary and
ideological goals.
Before
analyzing
some
literary
ideologized aspects of the most important Soviet
novels, we must state that most of the novel
subjects were inspired by real events, real people
and tend to represent the Soviet reality adding
the structural opposition of ideal events and
ideal people and disregarding some aspects of
truthfulness and plausibility. In other words, the
common men and women were considered
heroes due to the new political and historical
events and in order to popularize these singular
and exceptional heroes literature, and especially
novel, was used as being the most suitable
literary form, contributing to the rise of the new
type of popular novel such is the case of the
popular detective or erotic novels. Besides, the
role of the literary critics was to welcome such
heroes and to present a generalized image of
such simple heroes as being the norm and the
usual phenomenon in the so-called greatest
country of all.
Popularizing such simple men and women
and their deeds (pretending ‗heroic deeds‘)
through media, literature and re-presenting
everything in a patriotic and ideal manner aimed
to contribute to the change in mentality of the
Soviet citizens, regardless of their ethnicity or
nationality. This cycle of taking popular or wellknown heroes from reality and transforming
them into literary heroes and symbols proved to
be a tricky and complicated one, because the
heroes and events underwent some ideological
and idealistic changes, but it worked flawlessly
concerning the designated role of shaping the
Soviet character and conscience of membership.
This ‗mass-copying‘ phenomenon is part
of the task of Soviet literature – the mythmaking or generating official myths to support
the new social order. E. S. Seniavskaia mentions
that the mass-copying process of literary
examples (inspired by real life) resembled the
‗mass edition of heroic deed‘, distinguishing
between the prototype of the ‗heroic symbol‘
and the ‗symbol‘ itself (Seniavskaia 1999, 214216). In the case of creating a symbol the social
aspects were of no importance compared to the
represented reality and the officially recognized
events ‗canonized‘ by the social conscience. In
order to become phenomenon of mass
conscience the symbol became popular among
the people if the symbol was of literary origin,
while the symbol from the people gained
acceptance and popularity through official
propaganda. The researcher argues that these are
the defining mechanism of the Russian wars of
the 20th century so that the literary characters
became means of re-affirming the social
examples of heroism in the conscience of the
people, transforming real events in symbol.
To begin the brief analysis of the main
Soviet literary heroic works, we must admit that
a decisive role in establishing the literary and
ideological method of the Socialist Realism was
played by M. Gorky‘s novel entitled Mother
(1906) where we may find the seeds of the
modified type of heroism. Moreover, the daily
revolutionary ‗heroic deed‘ is installed by the
typical hero Pavel Vlasov of this novel, a fact
that later became part of the instauration of a
Soviet literary canon.
The revolutionary deed as a lifestyle may
be found in the case of N. Ostrovsky‘s novel
How the Steel Was Tempered (1932), defined
according to main character‘s (Pavel Korchagin)
adherence to Bolsheviks. Ostrovsky‘s heroism
played an important role in defining the Soviet
identity and patriotic conscience of many young
generations, having an accessible didactic style
and serving well the main idea of the Socialist
Realism to educate the masses. Nevertheless, the
heroism of this novel may be regarded with
skepticism due to its final textual references
concerning the protagonist‘s involvement in the
noble cause for social equality, neglecting his
own health: ‗It proved that there‘s no heroism in
this‘. For most readers of the ‘30s, Pavel was
‗the national hero‘ or the embodiment of
courage, unconditional dedication to the Party
and victory of the new social order. The main
hero was described in Soviet textbooks as the
typical representative of the young guard of
Bolsheviks, while the novel was considered the
biography of an entire generation.
The transformation of the heroism
ingredients of the Second World War prose has
as their basis the socio-political and cultural
changes and the installment of the Socialist
Realism. Although many Soviet writers claim
their parentage from Lev Tolstoy, the
introduction of the new literary ideologized
canon of the master plot1 and positive character
construction contribute to perceiving false notes
in the heroic notes. Each decade after the Second
(1) See Katherina Clark‘s comprehensive analysis of
the ‗master plot‘ as the defining trait of the Soviet
novel in her book The Soviet Novel: History as
Ritual.
118
World War, entitled ‗Great Fatherland
Liberation War‘ or ‗Great Patriotic War‘ brings
new literary devices and elements to the
established canon, as well as liberating attempts
from the censorship. The climax of this process
may be considered V. Grossman‘s novel Life
and Fate written in 1959 and published on
Russian soil in 1988. An important literary event
of the after war period is considered I.
Ehrenburg‘s novel The Thaw (1954), which gave
the name to the Soviet cultural movement after
Stalin‘s death. Other important literary events of
the Soviet Union are Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn‘s
novel One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
(1962) and Boris Pasternak‘s Doctor Zhivago
(1957), which determined Geoffrey Hosking to
divide the Soviet literature until this period and
after it, mentioning relevant cultural and literary
changes (Hosking 1980, 29-49).
As for illustrating the change between
only two decades of hero making characteristics,
two important war writings may be brought into
our attention – V. Kataev‘s Son of the Regiment
(1944) and I. Bogomolov‘s Ivan (1957) (with
the famous film adaptation by A. Tarkovsky in
1962) – that are examples of opposite types of
heroism depicted and understood. We underline
a romantic perspective in Kataev‘s case –
representing a child hero on the battlefield with
his heroic deeds, while in Bogomolov‘s case we
witness a silent and restrained heroism. In both
cases we may discuss about the ‗heroic deed‘ at
war, but its components are different and so are
the trigger factors that contribute to child
character‘s involvement in the battle.
A special case of the literary
representation of the Soviet heroism is A.
Fadeyev‘s The Young Guard with two versions –
1946 and 1951 – depicting the real events in
Krasnodon in 1942. The second version of the
novel was written due to the harsh criticism
regarding the absence of the mature communist
leaders to support the activities of the
underground organization fighting against the
German occupiers in Krasnodon. The author
added ten chapters to respond to this ideological
necessity, creating new heroes near those who
were inspired from real teenagers and pupils.
The artistic creativity was directed and restricted
at the same time – although the author had full
access to all documents that presented the
events, the category of ‗what ought to be‘ gained
more importance in the propaganda view. Hence
the non-historical and ideologically inspired (in
the strict sense of the word) heroes of the novel.
On the other hand, only the characters inspired
from real heroes of those historical events
became symbols and were canonized by the
social conscience. Although the heroism of the
second version should have seemed complete,
offering the explanations of the moral springs
and party membership motivations, it appears
false and too ideologically charged. Regardless
of the rewriting fact, the novel fits into
Fadeyev‘s work due to author‘s aim of
representing ‗heroic aspects that characterize
Soviet people‘ (Bushmin 1983, 178-179).
After Stalin‘s death (1953) the cultural
atmosphere changes and the censorship is less
vigilant in imposing the established literary
canon, a fact that made possible for many Soviet
novels to offer a realistic representation of war
and heroism, influenced by the psychological
trend and by the desire for authenticity.
Sholokhov‘s novel They Fought for Their
Country (1969) brings a change in the
representation of the Soviet fighter, being
focused on the destiny of simple Russian people,
their heroism and, according to Soviet literary
critics, ‗well-known Suvorovist qualities‘,
revealing ‗potential readiness for the heroic
deed‘ (Zhuravljiova 1978, 99-100).
K. Simonov is considered the founder of
the panoramic novel of the Second World War,
continuing his vision from the short story Days
and Nights in his trilogy The Alive and the Dead
(1959-1971) where heroism is the daily element
of the battles, not only the expression of the final
battle or of successive victories. To mention
only several relevant facts on the reception of
the depicted heroism in this trilogy we may
highlight the dual criticism – either the artistic
poverty, the lack of heroism (Kuzmichev 1973,
203) or convincing depiction of heroism due to
representation of various facets and conflicts of
reality (Fink 1983, 267-268). The second
approach is far more dangerous, because it tends
to generalize and to claim a heroization of
almost all the characters and ignores the Soviet
traditional
and
canonically
demanded
heroization, de-heroizing by presenting the
‗truth of the trenches‘ (okopnaja pravda). The
reason for the first critical approach is
Simonov‘s concept of the ‗harsh truth‘ that
modifies the heroic vision and brings important
changes in shaping the Soviet heroism.
Bondarev is part of a new stage of the
Soviet war literature and due to his temporal
distance concerning Stalinism his novels – The
Hot Snow (1969), The Shore (1975), The Choice
(1980) – reflect the echoes of psychological
literary trend and are more focused on the war
consequences and its social-philosophical issues
than on the war matters. In I. Bondarev‘s novels
119
heroic is associated with tragic with the focus on
the ethic and philosophic aspects of war (Fed`
1988, 13). The critical reception of his works
during the Soviet period was a biased
ideological one, with heavy reminiscences of the
established canon of the Socialist Realism,
situating Bondarev‘s heroism in a far more
depreciative position than in Simonov‘s case.
We reach what we entitle the climax of the
literary Soviet demystification of the heroic
reality – Vasily Grossman‘s Life and Fate
(1969, published in 1988). We consider that only
in this case a truly literary and ideational
parentage from Tolstoy and Chekhov is real,
given the fact that both authors are interested in
‗loyalty toward truth, no matter what its
bitterness is‘ (Lazarev 1990 in Grossman 1990,
661). Grossman offers a representation of the
heroism of the war and the national misery with
its forbidden facets, taboo zones of the Soviet
war reality. We witness a drastic change of
presenting the heroic deed, as well as a change
of the patriotic tone – everything being minimal,
authentic and direct. The simplicity of
Grossman‘s heroes and the special character
construction determined the critics to admit that
the hero is a ‗man among people‘ (chelovek
sredi ljudej).
Taking over the Russian national traits and
assuming them to the ‗Soviet people‘ may be
analyzed in the context of taking over the ideas
of the 19th century Pan-Slavism before the First
World War and cultivating intensively these
ideas during the Second World War. The feeling
of unity and national membership as a reaction
to the French influence in the 19th century are
Pan-Slavism ingredients that are used as
political tool by the Soviet Union giving the
impression of security by belonging to the new
people as a reaction to the German threat during
the two world wars. The artificially formed new
Soviet people couldn‘t miss the heroic trait,
being given the great national interest facing the
double threat – territorially and ideologically.
Berdyaev mentioned the fact that heroic trait and
other great human qualities are closely
connected to wars that trigger the high instincts
of the human nature, the self-sacrifice and love
for the country, requiring a fearless attitude
toward death. Aspects of this discourse are to be
found in the Soviet ideological discourse that
supports the heroism and greatness of the
‗Soviet people‘ in the ‗Great Fatherland
Liberation War‘ and in the proclamation of the
heroic united people against the enemy.
While the Russian national cohesion and
spirit can‘t be questioned, the collocation ‗Soviet
people‘ can and must be questioned from
various perspectives. According to the
dictionary Nauchnyj Komunizm the ‗Soviet
people‘ is ‗a new historical, social and
international community that appeared in URSS
based on the Socialism victory, overcoming the
class and national oppositions, coming near to
various classes, social groups, nations and
ethnicity, and harmonious relations among
them‘ (1983, 278-280). It is clear that this
definition is situated more on the ‗what ought to
be‘ side than on ‗what is‘, mixing the reality
with the ideal and mythical people. The same
source states that the formation process of this
people was ‗long, difficult and complex‘ in two
essential stages: ‗the transition process from
capitalism to socialism‘ and ‗the period of
building the evolved socialism‘. Another
relevant aspect is the mentioning of the ‗national
pride‘, which is the main source of heroism in
case of facing the enemy, be it the class enemy
or the external enemy.
The contemporary critical approach
proposed by A. Lazarevich on the so-called
‗Soviet people‘ supports the element of the
‗cultural isolation‘ as being necessary to the
ethno-genesis of the ‗last people that appeared
on the planet‘, reaching its maturity in the
Stalinist era1. Nevertheless, the politicized name
of a presumed ‗new people‘ raises questions
concerning the process of ethno-genesis, while
the mentioned two staged process of formation
from official Soviet sources reveals no will of
the involved peoples and ethnic groups, which
situates this ethno-genesis in the active (or even
aggressive) category with inclusive policy
towards other nationalities, but imposing a
strong Russification process. From this critical
perspective we may talk about a Russian
socialist military and political heroism with
various literary and ideological patterns of
implementing heroic prose and changing the
mentality regarding heroism, while bringing new
politicized semantic meanings to the existing
cultural and mental forms.
Preliminary Conclusions
The dynamics of heroism on Russian and
then Soviet soil is a comprehensive process,
captured in historical periods mainly according
to the ruling political figures with greater
influence on Soviet literature – Stalin and
Khrushchev. The reflections of the 19th century
hero-revolutionist literary type are briefly
(1)
120
http://technocosm.narod.ru/k2f/Sovietia_toc.htm
Accessed on October 10, 2013.
analyzed in the pre-revolutionary and
revolutionary years together with the semantic
changes to heroism itself, while the formation
and installment of the Socialist Realism canon
(1932-1934) stabilizes the new heroic patterns.
Each decade after this literary ideologized event
has specific heroic representations and the
Second World War literature takes over the
existing matrices of dual nature (military and
ideological). After the cultural Thaw we may
speak about stages of ideological de-heroization
and recovery of the patriotic heroism in
Tolstoy‘s perception, while assisting to a shift in
the literary hero‘s construction from the
‗positive character‘ from Chernyshevsky‘s
tradition to the character reflecting the classic
Russian
Realism
canon
with
several
psychological insights and moral-philosophical
tendencies. From Kataev to Grossman we‘ve
analyzed the main transmutations of the heroic
and heroism, offering a glimpse of Soviet heromaking process.
Fadeev,
A.,
Molodaja
gvardija, Minsk, 1967.
Fed`, N., Khudozhestvennye
Fed` 1988
otkrytia Bondareva, Moskva,
Sovremennik, 1988.
Fink, L., Konstantin Simonov.
Fink 1983
Tvorceskij put`. 2nd edition,
Moskva, Sovetskij pisatel`,
1983.
Gorky 1970 Gorky, M., Mat`. In: Polnoe
sobranie socinenij, vol. 8,
Moskva, Nauka, 1970.
Grossman, V., Zhizn` i sud`ba,
Grossman
Moskva, Sovetskij pisatel`,
1990
1990.
Hosking, G., Beyond Socialist
Hosking
Realism. Soviet Fiction since
1980
Ivan Denisovich, New York,
Holmes & Meier Publishers,
Inc., 1980.
Karamzin, N. M., Istorija
Karamzin
gosudarstva
Rossijskogo,
1980
Leninzdat, Leningrad, 1980.
Kataev 1981 Kataev, V., Syn polka,
Detskaja literatura, Moskva,
1981.
Kuzmichev, I., Geroj i narod,
Kuzmichev
Moskva, Sovremennik, 1973.
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Ostrovsky, N., Kak zakaljalas`
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stal`, Moskva, Pravda, 1982.
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Pasternak,
B.,
Doctor
Pasternak
Zhivago, Moskva, Sovetskij
1989
pisatel`, 1989.
V.
I.,
Russkij
Propp 1958 Propp
geroiceskij epos, Moskva,
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S.,
Seniavskaia Seniavskaia,
Psikhologija voiny v XX veke:
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istoriceskij
opyt
Rossii,
Moskva, Rosspen, 1999.
Sholokhov, M. A., Oni
Sholokhov
srazhalis` za Rodinu, Moskva,
1971
Sovetskaja Rossija, 1971.
Simonov, K., Zhivye I
Simonov
mertvye,
Moskva,
1984
Khudoshestvennaja literatura,
1984.
Solzhenitsyn Solzhenitsyn, A., Odin den`
Ivana Denisovicha, Moskva,
1963
Sovetskij pisatel`, 1963.
Tolstoy, L. N., Vojna I mir, In:
Tolstoy
Sobranie sochinenij v 22 to1978-1985
makh, vol. 5, 6, 7, Moskva,
Khudozhestvennaja literatura,
1978-1985.
Zhuravljova Zhuravljiova, A. A., Pisateliprozaiki v gody Velikoj
1978
Fadeev 1967
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122
The Intellectuals in the Evangelical Churches during the
Communist regime
Marius SILVEŞAN
PhD, Theological Baptist Institute of Bucharest
E-mail: marius.silvesan@yahoo.com
Abstract. This study addresses aspects of cultural life in Communist Romania with specific
reference to evangelical intellectuals. For the purpose of discussing this subject, I used original
documents from the Archive of the Department of Religious Affairs, which provided information about
neo-Protestant (evangelical) intellectuals, their actions, attitudes and statistics. The information in the
archival documents was supplemented with those provided by monographs, articles, and interviews with
evangelical intellectuals who had a cultural activity during the communist period.
Key words: neo-Protestant intellectuals, neo-Protestant cults, Department of Religious Affairs, cult
Inspector, communism in Romania
Adventists (2). The term suggests that they did
not come to Romania at the same time as the
Reformed church and the Lutheran one‘
(Hancock-Stefan 2003, 21).
Because we refer to evangelical cults, a
term with different meanings within the
Romanian territory as compared to the West, we
must know when and how they appeared in
Romania.
Thus, the first church whose history I shall
present is the Baptist one which was founded in
Amsterdam, Holland, in 1609. The first Baptist
Church in modern Romania was established in
1856 in Bucharest. In the interwar period,
Romanian Baptists faced persecution, although
they had the legal status of a religious
association even after the passing of the Law of
Cults in 1928. They were able to obtain the
status of a religious cult, for the first time, in
1940. Shortly after that, between 1942 and 1944,
in the context of the international circumstances
and domestic pressures, the Baptists were
banned, but after August 23rd they regained their
legal rights. In the fall of 1944, their religious
cult status was recognized by royal decree and
this recognition was reiterated by the Law of
Cults of 1948 and the Decree 1203 of 1950. The
latter legal norm enshrined the operation and
organization‘s status made in accordance with
the Law of Cults of 1948 (Silveşan, Răduţ
manuscris; Silveşan 2012, 40-80).
Seventh-day Adventists appeared in 1870
with the visit of the Polish pastor (former
It is important to know our past, which is
why I provide an insight, through this study, into
the cultural life of the evangelical communities
in Communist Romania, analyzed through a
short history of representative intellectuals.
Therefore, in addition to the information related
to cultural life, in this study there are also issues
related to the freedom of expression, and, in
some cases, even to persecution. I mentioned
this because many times these two elements are
intertwined in the life of evangelical intellectuals
during the communist period. Since the direction
of research aims at aspects of cultural life, I
sought to present in this study both general and
specific issues, by highlighting the fact that, in
the communist period, evangelicals (or neoProtestants) had a cultural life and did not limit
themselves to religious matters. Neo-Protestant
intellectuals were noted both in the areas in
which they were educated (theology, medicine,
Romanian language and literature, music) and in
defending religious rights and freedoms from the
inside or the outside of their community,
irrespective of the denomination.
To highlight the Zeitgeist (1), in this study
I chose the terms neo-Protestants and
evangelicals. According to a definition given by
George Hancock-Stefan, neo-Protestantism ‗is a
term for Romanian Baptists, Nazarenes,
Pentecostals, Evangelicals and Seventh-day
(1) Zeitgeist (spirit of the age or spirit of the time),
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitgeist, accessed on
17.07.2013. By using this term, we wish to
rebuild, to highlight issues related to the ‗mood of
the era‘ under consideration.
(2) The Seventh-day Adventists are not part of our
study.
123
Catholic priest) Michael Bellina Chehonsky.
(History, http://www.adventist.ro/index/). From
the Adventist Cult, two groups emerged:
reformist Adventists and protestant Adventists,
both outlawed by Decision no 1636 of 3 July
1951 of the Ministry of Justice (Răduţ 2010, 93).
The Brethren came at the end of the year
1899 as a result of Eduard H. Broadbent‘s
mission from England and of Francis Berney
and Charles Aubert‘s mission from Switzerland.
Bucharest hosted the first meeting of preaching
the Gospel originally in French, and then it
spread throughout Romania. In 1939, under
pressure of the authorities, they agreed to merge
with Christians according to the Scripture1, but
the latter broke away in 1990 to form the
Romanian Evangelical Church (Răduţ, 2012, 3439).
The onset of communism had various
consequences on neo-Protestants. Thus, in
addition to maintaining the recognition of this
religious cult, the state interfered with the
internal life of the Church, which affected the
functioning of the institution, the religious
service, the believers and the religious
personnel. The intellectuals were directly
targeted, monitored by the Department of
Religious Affairs and the Securitate (2).
The intellectuals are the elite of a country
or community, in this case, of the neo-Protestant
churches in Romania. For a clearer
understanding of this term, I consider it
appropriate to mention that the Romanian
explanatory dictionary defines the term
‗intellectual‘ as a person who has thorough
specialized training and works in arts, sciences,
technology etc.; a person belonging to the
intelligentsia‘. (DEX – ‗Intelectual‘). As I
mentioned before, the Department of Religious
Affairs and the Securitate monitored religious
life and the intellectuals, especially those who
were actively involved in the church life. In the
statistics and reports of the above-mentioned
institutions it is obvious that the label
‗intellectual‘ is used quite flexibly, including
people
without
university
education
(Mănăstireanu 2009). There was monitoring, and
there were also persecutions of the Baptist
intellectuals caused by the fact that the
communist regime was afraid of them. The
communists feared the power of the personal
example which was taken as a model by the
believers; they also feared they could create
opponency to the regime. Moreover, since they
were educated, they had a different
understanding of the political, social and
economic events. The communist state
considered religion to be opium of the people,
and this should also be taken into consideration.
The Marxists thought that ‗that religion is the
opium of the people. They carried on agitation at
every level to discredit religion and the Church.
Intellectuals were told that to hold any religious
beliefs is to regress to superstition‘ (Raikin
1984, 281). The mentioned aspects can be found
summarized in a document of the Department of
Religious Affairs of the year 1980. It labeled as
negative a series of general manifestations of
neo-Protestant intellectuals (Baptists, Evangelicals, Pentecostals and Adventists). The
document refers to the following: the negative
influence on youth, the advocacy of the religious
freedom in America, attempts to send memories
abroad. (ASSC 1980, Ponderea elementelor intelectuale, ff. 2-3). The fight for the freedom of
thought, worship and expression of neoProtestant intellectuals is a feature of the years
1970-1980 of Romanian communism. This
desire for freedom also meant, in some cases,
sending protest memoranda to Radio Free
Europe, the U.S. Congress, and also to other
international bodies which had a role in
monitoring the respect for the rights and
freedoms of the Romanian citizens, including
religious rights. Compared to the situations
referred to in the document mentioned above,
the senior territorial inspector of the Department
of Religious Affairs of Argeş county listed a
number of measures to counteract the actions of
the neo-Protestant intellectuals in the county:
‗We acted directly on the believers who are
party members, very few in number, through
educational factors, party and public organizations, resulting in temporary clarifications and
a rarer participation in meetings of worship. [...]
Greater attention was given to countermeasures
in social media: industry, health, construction,
cooperation, where the number of employees
with a high cultural level is high.‘ After
reviewing these activity areas, the inspector
refers to the school system. ‗The results were
generally prompt and positive; the manipulations
in different forms of party education and in
pedagogical councils manage to fight the ill
(1) A movement started in Bucharest, in the 1920s
around the former Orthodox priest Teodor
(Tudor) Popescu, and which extended to other
places; in 1927 it took the name of Christians
according to the Scripture. Also known as tudorite
movement, named after the founder.
(2) ‗Securitate‘ is the name for Department of State
Security (the secret police agency of Communist
Romania).
124
‗We have made researches, approaching 4
pastors from the Baptist, Pentecostal and
Seventh-Day Adventists denominations, with the
result that 19 young people belonging to their
families attend different Colleges.‘ It is stated
that they study medicine, engineering, pedagogy
and music (ASSC 1980, Către Departamentul
Cultelor, f. 1).
Regarding the number of neo-Protestant
intellectuals from Arad, the Department states
that they managed to identify 20 believers with
degrees, working as medical doctors, engineers,
professors, lawyers (Ibidem).
Professor Vasile Talpoş, headmaster of
the Baptist Theological Seminary in Bucharest
between 1988 and 1990 and president of the
Baptist Theological Institute in Bucharest
between 1990 and 2011, expressed his opinion,
during a conversation that we had on October 8th
2013, about the Evangelical intellectuals during
communism and about his personal cultural life.
He also said that Lidia Talpoş, his wife, sang
for many years in a choir at the State
Philharmonic of Cluj. She used to sing different
musical pieces, in their original language
(German, Italian, etc.) and her husband attended
various concerts of the Philharmonic. He told us
that during the communist regime, he would go
to concerts and listen to musical works, such as
Beethoven‘s Symphony no. 9 or Giuseppe
Verdi. We should mention that a part of
Symphony no. 9 is also being sung in the
Evangelical churches as We adore You joyfully.
Also, he enjoyed reading and going to theatre,
provided that the various plays would not
dishonor God and were not an attack against
religion and Christian faith. Professor Vasile
Talpoş also talked about these facts in an
interview that he was taken in 2003, in
Bucharest.
When talking about high school, where the
intellectual young man was being formed, he
mentioned how he used to spend his spare time
and described the cultural atmosphere of the 60s.
Professor Talpoş also talked also about the
books one could find in that period and said:
‗You could find books belonging to the
Romanian classic literature and they would
become plays performed at the theatre. I enjoyed
going to theatre, as this was also a part of our
cultural program‘ (Vasile Talpoş, 2003).
Among the plays one could see at the
theatre in Cluj, at that time, he mentioned The
Sunset, an arrangement of the work with the
same title written by Barbu Ştefănescu
Delavrancea, and Hagi Tudose. Vasile Talpoş
said that these plays had been originally literary
mystical and religious manifestations‘ (Ibidem).
For an overview of the situation of neoProtestant intellectuals in Argeş, I quote the
same document of the senior territorial inspector
of the Department of Religious Affairs in the
county which also presents statistical
information. Thus, ‗in the religions of Argeş
County, the neo-Protestant cults have a rate of
0,6 % of the population of believers‘ (Ibidem,
f. 1).
The same document entitled ‗The rate of
intellectual elements among the neo-Protestant
believers and the effects of their implication in
community life‘ provides comparative information regarding the intellectuals from the neoProtestant denominations in the county. ‗1.9% of
the neo-Protestants from Argeş County are
intellectuals, a higher percentage being found
within the Open Brethren Church. The number
is 47 out of 2495‘ (Ibidem).
When speaking about neo-Protestant
intellectuals, we take into account those who
were medical doctors, professors, poets,
engineers, musicians. Therefore, the communist
authorities regarded those who earned graduate
degrees as intellectuals.
The Department of Religious Affairs of
Argeş provides a personalized statistic for each
denomination, outlining the activity of the
intellectuals from that religious cult. For
instance, according to the official reports, among
the Open Brethren we can distinguish ‗12
medical doctors, 16 engineers, 11 economists
and 10 faculty members.‘ The difference
between the number stated above, namely 47,
and what we find in the reports about
intellectuals, according to their activity, can
partially be explained by different sources of
investigating the available data and its
centralization within the Department of
Religious Affairs, as well as due to the fact that
not all the activities associated with intellectual
work have been approached. ‗Within the
Seventh-Day Adventists – 8 professors, 6
economists, 4 engineers, etc. Within the
Pentecostals – 7 engineers, especially in the
wood industry, 12 faculty members. Within the
Baptists – 3 engineers in the energy industry‘
(Ibidem, f. 2).
There is a similar document issued by the
Department of Religious Affairs of Arad on
August, 06th, 1971. So, according to the legal
norm 5.067/1971, regarding the children of
Evangelical believers pursuing university
degrees, a report was issued for the Department
of Religious Affairs, Bucharest Division, for
Monitoring and Control, stating the following:
125
works by Romanian authors, and others
belonging to foreign writers were also played at
the theatre. Out of the Romanian writers we can
recall Ion Luca Caragiale, Vasile Alecsandri and
others. At that time, people were open for
movies, dramas and other works that belonged
to both Romanian and foreign authors (Ibidem).
I asked Professor Vasile Talpoş to speak
shortly about the academic life in Cluj at the end
of the 60s. In this context, he mentioned about
Babeş-Bolyai University, The Medical School,
the Engineering College and Polytechnics with
various branches. ‗There were also some schools
that prepared students for different technical
branches – these schools required only 3 years
of studies.‘ Those who graduated from these
schools had chances to find good jobs. ‗Also,
continues professor Talpoş, we had colleges
where people studied Economic Sciences and
Politics.‘
When discussing about these educational
opportunities for the youth of that time,
Professor Vasile Talpoş emphasized something
interesting
concerning
the
Evangelical
Christians. ‗Some colleges, as Economics, Law
and Psychology were not open for Christians,
but only for those recommended by the Party.‘
Professor Talpoş recalls that only some
colleges required the personal file of the
candidate for admission. ‗Technical Colleges
and Medical School would not accept candidates
on the basis of their personal file. The file of a
prospective student would only be taken into
account if that person didn‘t have a healthy
background. That means if his family was poor
or if he had any political endeavor against
communism. This is why many Evangelical
Christians managed to be admitted into Music
School, Medicine, Engineering and Technical
Institutions, whereas one could apply for the
other Colleges only on the basis of his personal
file‘ (Ibidem).
The information received from professor
Talpoş is confirmed by the reality of that time.
Another intellectual that was noticed during the
communist regime was the medical doctor
Silviu Cioată from the Brethren Church. Born
on June 9th 1931, in Ploieşti, Prahova County, in
a Christian family, he became a believer himself
during high school, in 1946. (Silviu Cioată,
1997)
He graduated the Medical School in Cluj
in 1956 and became a radiology specialist in
1963. On July 9th, 1957, he got married to Elena
Hotăran and they had three children: Cristiana,
Silviu and Ionuţ. While practicing medicine, he
also received training in theology and became an
apologist of the Biblical truth, writing regularly
in ‗Calea Credinţei‘ [The path of faith], and the
periodical of the Brethren Church. Between
1985 and 1992 he took courses in Biblical
Education by Extension, and between 1992 and
1994 he took courses in Advanced Training
Study. Also he taught a course on Christian life,
first at ‗Timotheus‘ Biblical School (1990-1993)
and then at ‗Timotheus‘ Theological Institute
(1993-1997).
During the communist regime, in April
1977, he was one of the subscribers of the letter
of the six neo-Protestants, and, as a result, he
was investigated for six months (Răduţ, 2012,
51-53). At that time, he was also the personal
doctor of pastor Joseph Tson. Between 1981 and
1982 he was involved in transporting and
distributing Bibles and Christian literature,
activity for which he got arrested, investigated
and sentenced at five years and a half in jail.
However, due to external pressures he was
released after nine months (Ibidem, 59-62).
While being released, he was asked what
he was going to do in the future and his answer
was: ‗The same as I have done so far.‘
Right after the revolution in December, he
was elected, in January 1990, as the president of
the Open Brethren and was reconfirmed in that
position in 1994. Also, during this time, he was
the general secretary of the Romanian
Evangelical Alliance (1990-1994) and then vicepresident between 1994 and 1997. On October
20th 1997, he passed away at the age of 66
(Silveşan, Răduţ, manuscris).
Doctor Silviu Cioată was an intellectual
by formation and he got involved in various
endeavors, aiming at freedom of thought and
expression. We can mention as an example his
involvement in signing a document of protest
against the communist regime, entitled The neoProtestants cults and man’s freedom in
Romania, document that was read at Radio Free
Europe on April 2nd, 1977. This act of protest
was signed by the following six Evangelical
intellectuals: Joseph Tson, Pavel Nicolescu,
Aurel Popescu, Radu Dumitrescu (Baptist),
Constantin Caraman (Pentecostal), Dr. Silviu
Cioată (Brethren).
Dr. Cioată proved through his actions that
he had more than a medical and theological
culture; he also had a humanistic culture,
springing from his understanding that the soul
vibrates with the pluriform expressions of arts
and beauty.
Pavel Nicolescu is a Baptist pastor, an
outstanding intellectual (Caravia 1999, 12) and
one of the Evangelical leaders in the Communist
126
Romania. He was born on April 27th, 1936, in
Ploieşti, Prahova County, in a Brethren family
(Speaking with pastor Pavel Nicolescu, 26).
Between 1961 and 1965 he attended the Baptist
Seminary in Bucharest and graduated first in
class. After graduation, he got married in 1966
with Rut Pădeanu and they had three children
(Pavel Nicolescu 2006, 26).
In 1969 he began his studies at the
Philosophy College in Bucharest. Being a
graduate of a Theological institution and also a
Baptist, he was expelled from College, just two
weeks before finishing the fourth year, as could
be read in a legal norm, number 177 from April
6th 1973, issued by the rector of the University
of Bucharest, which, however, didn‘t mention
the specific reason that led to this measure.
Together with other five subscribers
(Joseph Tson, Constantin Caraman, Aurel
Popescu, Radu Dumitrescu and Silviu Cioată) he
sent abroad to Radio Free Europe a memoire
entitled The neo-Protestant cults and the human
rights in Romania. In order to write this memoir,
Pavel Nicolescu gathered information about the
international treaties signed by Romania,
concerning the State‘s commitment to respect
human rights and the fundamental freedoms.
Joseph Tson testifies that Pavel Nicolescu was
an expert regarding these laws (Ibidem).
After reading and hearing about him, but
also after having several conversations with him,
I can mention that he was not interested only in
theology, but also in history, philosophy and
law, with the result that he used to speak
differently than other pastors.
Also, his training and skills allowed him
to be involved in various actions concerning the
religious freedom and the freedom of
conscience. Although he was persecuted and
investigated for six weeks, after the document
was read at Free Europe, he did not give up his
commitment to defend human rights. Consequently, in 1978, the Romanian Committee for
Defending the Religious Freedom and the
Freedom of Conscience was founded [ALRC, in
Romanian] (Dobrincu 2003, 215).
This committee joined Paul Goma‘s
movement of protest and other international
organizations. Something interesting about this
Committee is that although its members were
mostly Evangelical (neo-Protestants), they
pleaded for the release of the Ortodox priest
Calciu Dumitreasa.
Joseph Tson is a Baptist pastor born on
September 30th 1934, in Gârboviţa, Alba
County. He attended the courses of the Faculty
of Letters in Cluj (1951-1955) and also those of
the Baptist Seminary in Bucharest (1955-1957).
After graduation, he taught Romanian language
in Cluj (1958-1968) (Iosif Ţon 2013).
In 1959 he got married to Elisabeta and
they had a daughter, Dorotheea. Between 1969
and 1972, he studied theology in Oxford, thus
being able to travel aboard, due to the fact that
he worked as a guide for ONT (National
Department of Tourism).
Between 1973 and 1974, he was a
professor at the Baptist Seminary in Bucharest
and then he worked as a pastor at the Baptist
Church in Ploieşti (1974-1977). While being a
pastor in Ploieşti, he wrote two papers that led to
some measures of retaliation on behalf of the
Securitate: The one who will lose his life and The
place of the Christian in socialism, known also
as the Christian Manifest (1).
In his second work, Tson pleaded for
integrating the Christians into the communist
society. His works were written in 1973 and
1974, being published abroad in 1975. Then, his
works were secretly spread in Romania, as they
denounced the abuse of the State against the
Evangelical Christians (ACNSAS, Fond
Documentar, Dosar Nr .13087, vol. 28, f. 83,
apud Răduţ, 2012).
In 1977, after the document concerning
the human rights was on Radio Free Europe,
Joseph Tson was arrested and investigated along
with the other subscribers (Silveşan, Răduţ,
manuscris).
Between 1977 and 1981, Tson worked as
a pastor at the Baptist Church in Oradea and
then, in 1981, he emigrated in the USA, residing
in Wheaton, Il. In 1982, he became the president
of the Romanian Missionary Society, translating
books on theology, printing them and bringing
them secretly into Romania. Also, he used to
preach at Radio Free Europe.
Through his sermons and published works
during the communist regime, and also due to
his training in the humanistic area, Joseph Tson
had a major influence upon several generations
of pastors, both during 1989 and thereafter.
His vision concerning the involvement of
the Evangelicals in the cultural life of Romania,
was materialized through the foundation of
Emanuel Bible Institute in Oradea – which
became Emanuel University in Oradea – the
foundation of the Romanian Evangelical
Alliance, the radio station ‗Voice of the Gospel‘
and the publishing house ‗The Christian Book‘
[in Romanian, Cartea Creştină].
(1) As Karl Marx wrote The Communist Manifest.
127
Ioan Bunaciu, pastor and professor, was
born on January 7th 1925, in Gurba, Arad
County. He is known as one of the most
remarkable Baptists, with a strong contribution
in forming pastors and ministers, doing this
under the difficult circumstances created by the
communist regime.
In 1951, Ioan Bunaciu got married to
Otilia Turcu from Almaş, having together a son,
Otniel Ioan Bunaciu, currently dean of the
Baptist College in the University of Bucharest,
the president of the Romanian Baptist Union and
the president of the European Baptist Federation
(EBF).
Ioan Bunaciu studied Economics (ISEP)
and graduated in 1949, attending at the same
time the Baptist Seminary in Bucharest (19471950). After finishing his studies at the Baptist
Seminary in Bucharest, because it was not
accredited at a graduate level, Bunaciu attends
the Reformed Theological Institute in Cluj
(1951-1956), receiving a Bachelor‘s degree in
Theology (1956). Then, he continues his studies
and becomes a doctor in Theology, in 1974,
receiving his degree from the Reformed
Theological Institute in Cluj, such an
achievement being something new for the
Baptist church in Romania. At that time, Ioan
Bunaciu was the only Baptist to receive a degree
from the Reformed Theological Institute, the
only Baptist who received a PhD degree in
Romania and the only Baptist pastor and
professor with a PhD degree in Theology
(Bunaciu, Silveşan 2013, 65-68; Ioan Bunaciu
2012).
He began his academic career as a
professor at the Baptist Seminary in Bucharest in
1955 and continued to teach until 2010, the
Seminary becoming the Baptist Theological
Institute in 1990. He was director of the
Seminary between 1970 and 1988 while
between 1990 and 2010 he was a professor at the
Baptist College in the University of Bucharest.
When I interviewed him in 2012,
professor Bunaciu mentioned that he taught at
the Baptist Seminary for 55 years (1955-2010)
and worked as a pastor for 60 years (1950-2010)
(Ioan Bunaciu 2012). We should mention that
after 1989 he worked as a professor at the
Baptist Institute in Bucharest, the Baptist
College in the University of Bucharest and
Emanuel Institute in Oradea, which became
Emanuel University.
Pastor Ioan Bunaciu is not only a
professor, but also a historian and writer. During
the communist regime he published 12 books
among which we can mention here: The history
of the Holy Scriptures, Systematic Theology,
History of the New Testament, Preaching the
Word in the Baptist Churches, The History of the
Spreading of the Baptist Christian Faith in
Romania, Biblical Archeology. He continued to
publish after 1990, being known as a remarkable
historian of Baptist Christian Faith, by the
following books: History of the Baptists (1993),
Baptist Christian Churches in Romania between
1944 and 1990 (2002), History of the Romanian
Baptist Churches (2006), Episodes from the
History of Preaching the Gospel in the Baptist
Churches in Romania 1874-1984 (2011).
Emil Bulgăr, a Pentecostal pastor, was
born in Ulieş, Hunedoara county and became
known as an engineer (offering his knowledge
and expertise for constructing church buildings),
as a pastor of the biggest Pentecostal church in
Bucharest, as a president of the Pentecostal Cult
(1990-1994), director of the Pensions Institute of
the Cult, president of the Romanian Evangelical
Alliance (1994-1998), as well as a poet and
Christian writer (Aso, 2013).
His poems were distributed secretly in the
Evangelical churches, knowing that the
communist regime didn‘t allow the printing and
spreading of religious literature. Among his
poems that were published in an anthology we
could mention: The first love, A love letter, At
the Meal, The Harvest, The Rain, Autumn.
Cristian Vasile Roske, a Pentecostal
pastor and poet, is another intellectual that we
want to mention in this paper. I had the
opportunity to listen to him on the occasion of a
religious and cultural event, organized in
December 2012 in Bucharest. While celebrating
the Constantin Caraman and Costache Ioanid
Centenary organized by Philadelphia Pentecostal
Church in Bucharest, pastor Cristian Vasile
Roske mentioned that the Pentecostal Church
organized in Crângaşi area of Bucharest, in the
70s, a meeting for religious poetry. This proves
that during the communist times, the neoProtestants were involved in the cultural life.
Pastor Vasile Roske also mentioned Maier
Ioan‘s desire of creating an anthology of
Christian poems and although he asked for
approval from the authorities, his project was
denied. Vasile Roske himself had sent a poem to
Maier Ion for the anthology he intended to
publish, and as a result, Roske was questioned
by the Securitate. Among the poems written by
Cristian Vasile Roske we could mention:
Turning back (May 25th 1950), Flowers for the
wedding day (February 1954), Meeting with
Jesus (August 1960) (Ciobanu 1994, 444-460).
128
It is worth mentioning Maier Ioan’s
desire of making an anthology of Christian
poems, as another evidence of Evangelical
intellectuals‘ involvement in cultural life. His
endeavor was something totally new inside the
Evangelical cultural life, although unfortunately,
the project could not be completed.
I refer to this fact, especially because in
that anthology, the author wanted to collect in
one book the Christian poems and songs under
the communist regime. Facing many obstacles,
Ioan Maier wrote a new memoir and sent it to
the State Council of the Socialist Republic of
Romania, to the Central Committee of the
Romanian Communist Party, to the Department
of Religious Affairs and also to ‗the authors of
Romanian poetic creation (poems and songs)
(ASSC, 1978 Memoriul lui Maier Ion, f.1)
In this memoir, Maier Ioan, being a
Theologian ‗(three years at the Baptist
Seminary), poet and Christian writer‘, testifies
about his constant aim ‗beginning already in
1975, of creating the first interdenominational
collection of Christian poems, (poems and
songs), by means of developing an anthology of
Romanian poetic creation and publishing it in
different volumes based on specific writers. Also
he aimed at founding an interdenominational
periodical of Romanian poetic creation‘
(Ibidem).
The data presented above are also
synthesized in a report made by the Department
of Religious Affairs, and according to them,
Maier Ioan mentions the following: ‗1. Since
1975 he has been working to make the first
collection of Romanian Christian poems (poems,
songs etc.), in order to publish it in an anthology
based on several volumes and specific writers; 2.
He wants to create an interdenominational
monthly periodical, with the purpose of
publishing the Romanian Christian poetic
creation; 3. He shows that, so far, he managed to
collect over 60 notebooks – volumes containing
over 5 600 poems gathered from all Christian
denominations in the country; 4. He asks for
approval for typing each volume in 90-98
copies, which then to be distributed to churches
around the country, the cost for each volume
being equivalent to the cost of typing them.‘
(ASSC, 1978, Referat)
In his memoir, Ioan Maier speaks about
his previous endeavors for creating an anthology
of Christian poems, which did not receive a
positive answer from the authorities. Still, he did
not give up his project. Thus, after collecting for
three years the poetic manifestations ‗springing
from the unknown deepness of the soul of a
Christian nation as ours‘, Ioan Maier believed
that ‗the need of knowing this treasure of
Christian creation is more and more necessary‘
(ASSC, 1978 Memoriul lui Maier Ioan, f.1).
Although Maier didn‘t receive the
approval for making that anthology of Christian
poems, we believe that his struggle was
something new for the Evangelical cultural life
under the communist regime.
Cristian Caraman is a choir director,
vocalist, and a remarkable representative of the
Romanian Evangelical music. He graduated
Ciprian Porumbescu Conservatory in Bucharest
in 1986 and collaborated with important musical
institutions from Romania and Europe.
In 2005, after advanced studies, Caraman
received a PhD degree in music from the
National University of Music in Bucharest. His
doctoral dissertation is entitled The Protestant
Music. Since 2006, he has been working as an
associate professor at Timotheus Institute in
Bucharest, becoming a lecturer in 2010.
In 2011, he publishes the results of his
academic research at the National University of
Music: Terms of reference in the history of
Protestant Music; Modern Protestant Music,
Genres of Protestant Music (Caraman, 2012).
During his musical career, he performed
‗important roles in opera and vocal-symphonic
shows‘ (Caraman 2013, 144, 146). Speaking
about his family, we find out that he has a
Luxembourg-Saxon genealogy, through his
grandmother, the countess Elizabeth von Golden
Egmond. His father ‗was an officer in the
Romanian royal army until the beginning of the
communist regime‘ (Caraman 2013, 144).
Cristian Caraman got married to Mariana
Catană and they have two children, Emanuel
Cristian and Dorothea Lidia. In the communist
times he was a tenor in Craiova. Thus, since he
was still a student in Music, he became a
vocalist at Line Theatre in Craiova and then,
towards the end of the communist regime (19861990), he was hired as a vocalist at the Opera
Theatre in Craiova. Then, after a competition
that took place in February 1990, he moved to
Bucharest, as a vocalist at ‗Ion Dacian‘ Operetta
Theatre and as the lead-vocalist at the same
institution (Ibidem, 145, 148).
Cristian Caraman composed several
religious musical parts, the most important being
a collection of sacred songs, using the lyrics of
his friend, the poet and Romanian Baptist pastor
Petru Dugulescu, who passed away. This
collection of songs was written between 1983
and 1985, being the result of an intensive
129
collaboration with Petru Dugulescu (Caraman,
2012).
His musical activity during the communist
regime was acknowledged by the musical critic
Iosif Sava himself. In one of his TV shows, he
referred to this tenor, saying that ‗the voice of
Cristian Caraman is an instrument full of
elasticity and of colorful clarity‘ (Seară
muzicală, TV 1984, apud Caraman 2012).
Cristian Caraman was actively involved in
the cultural life of the Baptist Church, but also
of other Evangelical churches, especially
Brethren. Since he was 15, Caraman sang ‗in the
mixed choir and the men‘s choir of Mihai Bravu
Baptist Church in Bucharest, and played the
violin in the orchestras of several Baptist
Churches: Mihai Bravu, Popa Rusu, Ferentari
and 23 August‘ (Caraman 2013, 145).
Other musical activity in the Romanian
Evangelical churches: ‗In 1980, after being
admitted at the Conservatory in Bucharest, he
becomes an orchestra director in Golgotha
Baptist Church from Bucharest and, after two
years, the orchestra had 60 musical players‘
(Ibidem, 146).
Because he was against the communist
regime and refused to become a Party member,
Caraman will not be seen anymore on TV, and
after graduating the Conservatory is sent to
Calafat. He moved to Craiova only because the
director of the Lyric Theatre from Craiova
insisted on requiring him in order to become a
lead-vocalist (Caraman 2012). In this context, he
also became the director of the orchestra and the
choir in the Baptist Church from Craiova
(Ibidem).
After the revolution in December 1989, he
comes back to Bucharest, leading the musical
ministry in Nădejdea [Hope] Baptist Church,
founding also in the 90s a violin orchestra. At
the moment, he is a lead-vocalist at ‗Ion Dacian‘
Operetta Theatre in Bucharest, a music teacher
at Logos Baptist High School in Bucharest,
choir director at the Baptist Theological Institute
in Bucharest (starting with the academic year
2013-2014) and lecturer at Timotheus Brethren
Theological Institute in Bucharest.
As a result of this research we discovered
that, during communism, the Evangelicals had a
cultural life defined by their intellectual
activities, their desire for education and their
involvement in different cultural areas. The
presented portraits belong to different
Evangelical cults and bring to the light various
activities of those we call our intellectuals; the
ones who wrote poems and Christian songs,
being musicians, medical doctors, professors etc.
and being involved in the cultural life, in spite of
the persecutions and struggles they faced.
Translated by Silvia Pătru,
Costel & Cristina Ghioancă
References
Archives:
ASSC 1978
Memoriul lui
Maier Ioan
Arhiva Secretariatului de
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Biografii, Traian Dorz 1978,
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unei antologii de poezie
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mentului Cultelor, Direcţia
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By presenting some general aspects
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130
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Caraman Caraman Cristian, ‗41 de ani de
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Talpoş
2003
132
Interviu cu Profesor Universitar
Dr. Vasile Talpoş, realizat de
Marius Silveşan [Vasile Talpoş,
interviewed by Marius Silveşan]
(April 2003), Bucureşti.
Provincia Magazine, Identity Projection and Regionalism of the
Transylvanian Intellectuals
Marian COMAN
Graduate Student, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University of Sibiu, Romania
E-mail: coman_marian@yahoo.com
Abstract. In this article we have tried to analyze the identity discourse promoted by the group of
Romanian and Hungarian intellectuals around the magazine Provincia, which occurred during the three
years between 2000 and 2002. It is a coherent discourse that emerges through the awareness of the need
for a constructive dialogue between the members of the two ethnic groups trying to promote a transidentity, peculiar to Transylvania. Cultural, historical, economic and political arguments are invoked so
that they would support and, especially, would help to crystallize it. We shall show, finally, the limits of
the identity project of Provincia and the causes that led to the failure of such a unique initiative in the
Romanian space.
Key words:
decentralization
Transylvania,
multiculturalism,
national
identity,
identitary
construction,
construction. Within these poles, the identity of
the Romanians is either reasserted or assumed,
despised or condemned. It was constructed by
reference to the communities living abroad, but
also by reference to the emergent identities that
were competing within. The identitary
polyphony is not always arising harmony. For a
significant part of the society, breaking the
identitary monolith was equal to unacceptable
national-statal dissolution and therefore all the
so called separatist tendencies had to be
eradicated, together with the promotion of an
integratory discourse that could restore the
initial order. Historical, juridical, political
evidences were appealed to, together with
violence. All the approaches that were not
circumscribed to the centralist vision were
questioned, and those who promoted them were
called ‗the Enemies of the Nation and the
Country‘, the opposers pursuing ‗occult‘,
‗foreign‘ interests. The most sensitive issue was
undoubtedly the Romanian-Hungarian relations
in which the moment of the ethnic clashes from
Târgu Mureş in 1991 was the highest point of
tension. The shock generated by these events
made the society become aware of the necessity
of a rational approach by which the minorities
should benefit from the right of cultural identity,
with all it entailed. Democratic Union of
Hungarians in Romania (UDMR) became an
influential political actor and the participation to
the act of the government in 1996, together with
the Democratic Convention, was an important
Background
After 45 years of ideological state
monopoly, the collapse of communism led to the
crystallization of the first alternative discourses
in a society deprived of any democratic exercise.
Redundant, with violent slippage, apocalyptic,
stigmatizing, exclusive, the post-revolutionary
discourse of the early years had rarely owned the
tone and availability of a real dialogue. In this
unfavourable context that lacks coherence, it
will nevertheless help in the formation of the
first political identities, social and cultural
rights. Beyond political apologies, debates on
various economic and social projects and the
support of foreign policy, the identity discourse
is given much importance. Ideas democratization entailed a democratization of
identities. In totalitarianism, an affirmation of
membership was confined to unifying concepts,
monolithic, that could not stand dissidents.
Everything was subordinated to the idea of
communism and Romanianism and what was
beyond these concepts was passed into the
insignificant register. Competing identities were
suffocated by a totalitarian vision and the
difference was suspected and considered to be
obscure. Reassertion of identity becomes, after
1989, a priority for both majority and for all
those communities or minority groups whose
specificity could not be sustained.
Redefining the national identity oscillated
between an extremist nationalist approach and
the relation to a European dissolving
133
stage during the democratization of the society.
Minority rights legislation extended and
contributed to the normalization of the relations
between the majority and the minority largest
ethnic group, although the nationalist-extremist
accents could still be heard. The discourse
emphasizing the irredentist and separatist danger
allegedly coming from the members of the
minority experienced periods of radicalization
whenever their rights were debated. The Great
Romania Party (PRM), the Party of Romanian
National Unity (Unity Party) and the Social
Democratic Party of Romania (PDSR) are the
main sources of radical messages, without
omitting the fact that even the centre-right
parties had nationalist accents and suspicions
regarding the real intentions of the Magyars.
This is, roughly (grosso modo) the general
picture of the first post-Decembrist decade that
allow us to argue our further approach of this
subject.
possibility of self-identification with different
social categories or groups. A person can be
defined as Romanian simply because he lives
there and speaks Romanian, but it could also
consider himself Orthodox, Moldavian or/and
socialist or/and intellectual depending on the
context in which it is placed and the
relationships with others. As Charles Taylor
says, these identity assumptions are due to our
very fundamental ‗dialogical‘ foundation
because ‗we define our own identity in a
permanent dialogue with others, sometimes in
conflicts with them because their things together
with their significance do always affect us‘
(quoted by Carpinschi 2010, 70). When taking
into account the community identity, the stress is
on the idea of the nation as an ‗ideal‘ of
community. Nation will require a model and will
be the subject of the most important works
concerning identity. It will become the main
actor of the international politics in the last
centuries and will be the basis for ‗ethnic‘ and
civic nationalism‘ based on the location where it
is defined. The way such a community arises
will become the subject of numerous studies
explaining the identitary theory accepted by the
author and the elements that are considered
crucial in defining identity.
The modern national state dominated by a
single culture, whether born of historical
experience, time, and type of ethnic
communities or from assumed experience and
learned civic community type will be
increasingly challenged. It is considered that it
does no longer correspond to the multiple
identity reality of the postmodern society.
Multiculturalism promoted by Will Kymlicka or
Charles Taylor become increasingly influential.
The first focuses on the necessity of granting
more rights to the cultural and national
minorities, taken as a whole. From his point of
view, the individual identity cannot be achieved
beyond the freedom of significant manifestation
of the culture to which he belongs. The cultural
group becomes the centre of the notion of
identity it supports. Romania followed the
classic path of the identities appearance. These
are defined by the early 18th century, especially
as far as the Transylvanian Romanians are
concerned (Mitu, 1997). They are the first to
carry out this identitary mission since they feel
compelled to counterbalance the nascent Magyar
identity then. This is one more example that an
identity group is obviously related to ‗others‘
and is right there where the communities
compete. Sorin Mitu points out that the self-
1.1. Identity, identities
The problem of identity is extremely
important in order to understand the aims of
Provincia, especially since their attempt is very
courageous. Identity is a very contentious
primarily because the reviewer has to do with
the individual and the community. These two
structures, the person's psychological and
cultural-structural community, are dynamic and
multidimensional and their operalization
involves a dispensing with this complexity. We
do not intend to define this notion because it
would exceed the aim of the study and the
researches on this subject are quite numerous
(For further details, see Rusu 2008).
We only mention the two most important
theories, the essentialist (1) and the constructivist
(2) one that conceive identity either as a given or
a created structure. There are authors who try to
reconcile the two perspectives, considering that
each side is right (Salad 2001, 34). Beyond these
differences, there is unanimous regarding the
fact that, at the same time or at different
moments, each part actually assumes multiple
identities that ensures one individual the
(1) Essentialists believe that identity is a natural and
universal given entity that pre-exists the social
actors based on biological, psychological, cultural
and regional considerations and is shared by all
members of the community as a whole (see Rusu
2008, 81).
(2) Constructivists see identity as a social, instrumental, dynamic and contextual construct (see
Rusu 2008, 88).
134
image of the Transylvanians will be further
taken in all its aspects by the inhabitants of other
Romanian provinces.
It is also true that Magyars in Transylvania
and Banat participated and were the subject of
the construction of the Hungarian nationalism.
They identified themselves with the State with
its centre in Budapest until 1918. The shock will
be significant when thinking that one region,
considered as their homeland, becomes part of a
state where they were minority. They had to
refold in a different identity, without abandoning
the idea of the ‗unitary character‘ of the
Hungarian nation (Vereş 2010, 136).
We therefore deal with concurrent
reinforcing forma of ethnocentrism that support
each other because of the territorial proximity
and their obvious relation.
At the beginning, the communist regime
appealed to the internationalist discourse and
tried to destructuralize the idea of the
‗Bourgeoise‘ nation, but failed in its last decades
of existence into the so called ‗nationalist
communism‘.
Ceauşescu‘s
nationalism
strengthened its mythology linked to the idea of
the national, unitary and indivisible state and
strongly ethnicized the public message.
followers and was justified by an economic
frustration only. Reactions were minimal and
ridiculizing about the attempt of the mayor of
Iaşi and did not stimulate a real debate on the
issue of decentralization, much less one focused
on the idea of a possible regional identity.
More reactive was the civil society and
the political elite to the article published by
journalist Sabin Gherman in 1998 that brought
into discussion the issue of Transylvania as a
region separated by the rest of Romania that
should have the right of becoming autonomous
on behalf of this difference. Beyond the virulent
accusations, the injuries or the contempt he was
met with, the journalist managed to impose a
very debatable subject on ‗the market of ideas‘.
How legitimate is the claim of the province to
separate from the centre? What are the reasons
that legitimate the separation? Is Transylvania
different from the rest of Romania? If so, by
what exactly? The answers to such questions
were vaguely stated within the dispute regarding
Sabin Gherman since the dominant tone was
incriminating, without any right of defencing
himself. Terms like ‗irredentist‘, ‗antiRomanian‘, ‗alienated‘, ‗exponent of Magyar
interests‘ were attached to the author of the
‗infamous‘ article; still, some voices appeared
and tried to explain, if not to support this
position.
Transylvania‘s specificity as against the
rest of the country was a subject arising from
Samuel P. Huntington‘s book, ‗The Clash of the
Civilisations and the Remaking of World Order‘
(Huntington 1998). The American political
scientist drew a line following the Carpathians
dividing the Western Catholic civilisation from
the East-European Orthodox one. Romania was
‗torn‘ between two different cultural and
historical traditions, though irreconcilable, but
with different foundations. History placed this
province under the influence of the Western
Catholic Union from 1918 and, since that time,
the period elapsed could not counterbalance one
thousand years of parallel evolution as compared
to the other Romanian territories. Huntington did
not try, in any case, to plead the cause of those
voices that demanded the separation of
Transylvania and its annexation to Hungary. He
tried to radiograph a territory that was at the
confluence of two civilization patterns, a ‗grey‘
zone. Moreover, the frontiers he suggested were
relative anyway. He does not claim to surgically
split something that cannot be naturally
separated. Since the mutual influences cannot be
1.2. The problem of regionalism and the
Transylvanian specificity after 1989
Regime change raised a profound
reformation of Romania at the structural and
institutional level. The Constitution adopted in
1991 will confirm the ‗national, unitary and
indivisible state‘, but kept unmodified the old
administrative structure of the country. Public
agenda will require in debate the need to rethink
the way the centralized administration was
designed. Decentralization was an important
issue in all programs of the political parties, but
the implementation of such a major project was
delayed. The political inability to launch a
substantial reform ultimately led to frustrations
on the part of the local administration that could
not benefit from its autonomy in relation to the
central administration that was dependent on. On
the other hand, the civil society was exasperated
by the inefficiency of a rigid, bureaucratic and
ossified system.
Given this political environment, the
Moldavians Party was founded on Mayor
Constantin Simirad‘s own initiative in 2000,
who wanted to be the legitimate voice of that
disadvantaged region of the country. The
process falls into derision because there were no
135
denied, eliminated or overviewed, he avoided to
be peremptory in this respect.
Reactions to Huntington‘s book were
numerous, including either analyses of scientists
that were rationally arguing their views or
nationalist vituperations that rose ‗alarm signals‘
against the attempts of destructuring the national
Romanian state. It was again brought into
discussion the special character Transylvania
enjoyed as an area of religious confluences
within which Orthodoxy, Catholicism and the
Evangelic or Lutheran Protestantism made up an
ethnic mixture consisting of Romanians,
Magyars, Germans and Serbians, a tolerance
territory, a good example of peaceful
coexistence. All those sporadic debates and
discussions, counterpoints to various realities,
frustrations
or
opinions,
had
nothing
programmatic, no ideatic system and were just
isolated voices that replied and disappeared from
time to time. Those involved in such
controversies are politicians, intellectuals
representing the civil society, sociologists,
political scientists, journalists who had no claim
than making their opinions heard.
In 1999 appeared the book The
Transylvanian Problem edited by Gusztáv
Molnár and Gabriel Andreescu. It consists of
several reactions of intellectuals regarding the
article of the Magyar political scientist, who
actually gave the title of the book. Molnar‘s
study is based on the observations made by S.
Huntington about Transylvania and tried to
demonstrate, using the voting behaviour during
elections, which indeed in this particular area
was established ‗a specific cultural identity‘. He
thought that the right solution for Romania was
to encourage this specificity of Transylvania that
could have played an important role in the
country‘s European future. The authors of the
other articles included in the book ‗dialogued‘ or
controversial views as compared to Molnar‘s.
The book is significant much the more as it was
a novelty and an example of the way such a
sensitive issue could be discussed.
Boari, Marius Cosmeanu, Caius Dobrescu,
Sabina Fati, Marius Lazăr, Traian Ştef, Szokoly
Elek, Daniel Vighi. The topics were various (1)
and supported different approaches. Other
reknown researchers from Romania and
Hungary joined the group, collaborated and
answered the inquiries the editorial board
launched (2). From the outset the goal of the
magazine was clearly stated, on behalf of the
Editorial Office: ‗The time for building a strong
commune authority in the public space of
Transylvania and Banat has come, the time for
an authority that has to lead the dispute and enter
a real dialogue. Taking the responsibility of a
new beginning, we are convinced that the
divergent history of this area can become the
point of convergence of constructive differences,
not conflicting. We look back with no prejudices
or inhibitions. But still we do not want the past –
antireflective or manipulated – to block the
nowadays alternatives. We aim to see the other
as a partner of ideas, of action, of cohabitation.
We no longer want our province to be viewed as
a second-hand area in the hands of a third-hand
country. We want Transylvania to become a
centre. Not over the other provinces, but equal to
them in a partnership of the centres. We want a
Transylvania where the religious, ethnic and
cultural differences can complete each other for
the benefit of the entire region. It is far from our
concern to revive – and even less to provoke or
promote – a localist Transylvanism beyond or
against the Romanian, the Magyar or the
German difference. We want to promote a
European Transylvania that should integrate
these different traditions and identities in a
consociational, close spirit of Europe in the
process of unification‘ (Provincia 2000).
This concise motivation outlined some of
the values the signatories were to pursue. First of
all, there was the strong will to consecrate a new
type of communication centred on dialogue. It is
a dialogue in the true sense of the world, a
‗speech‘ that is made ‗between‘, that brings
(1) Ágoston Hugó – journalist, Bakk Miklós –
political scientist, Mircea Boari – political
scientist, Marius Cosmeanu – journalist, Caius
Dobrescu – writer, Sabina Fati – journalist,
Marius Lazăr – sociologist, Traian Ştef – writer,
Szokoly Elek – director of Pro Europa League,
Daniel Vighi – writer.
(2) Alexandru Zub, Renate Weber, Gabriel
Andreescu, Livius Ciocârlie, Ştefan Borbély,
Vintilă Mihailescu, Sorin Mitu, Lucian Boia,
Daniel Barbu, Lucian Nastasă, Kántor Zoltán,
Smaranda Enache, Visky András, Ion Simuţ.
The Provincia Magazine
The first issue of Provincia came out on
April 2000, as monthly supplement published by
two regional dailies appearing in Cluj, in
Romanian and Magyar at the same time: Ziua de
Cluj and Krónika. Provincia was published in
both languages and was edited by Alexandru
Cistelecan and Gusztáv Molnár. The editorial
board consisted of members of the two ethnic
groups: Ágoston Hugó, Bakk Miklós, Mircea
136
together all the parts able to share their views,
listens to each other with confidence with the
certain sense of building something. Therefore,
Provincia turned this necessary principle of twoway communication into the only way of
making possible the emergence of that
community that would value the difference. ‗The
aim of the publication regarding the construction
of what it was called ‗the commune authority
within the public space of Transylvania and
Banat‘ was to leave «the dispute era» and enter
into «dialogue». Undoubtedly, the dialogue is
itself a form of cultivating diversity at the level
of ideas and attitudes; otherwise it risks
becoming a monologue and possibly a ferment
of a prospectless authoritarism/totalitarianism
(…). It should be added that «the responsibility
for this new beginning» is one of the most
important resources in effective transparency of
all the intentions, together with the social and
political attitudes and aspirations: there was
nothing ambiguous or subversive at the level of
the semantics or facts, just as the opponents of
‗the responsibility of this new beginning‘
claimed (Vighi 2002 b).
It should be noted that such complex
dialogue requires a different language. Terms
like radicalism and exclusivism can no longer be
accepted in the context of the collaboration
demand. The emotional or mystifying
approaches are avoided and replaced by those
empathetic that can make the link to the one who
is different. Gusztáv Molnár is very much aware
of the paradigm change made by the magazine:
‗The courage of Provincia, its destructive and
remodern character is that trying to express or
explain the Transylvanian singularity not by
some kind of regional or mystical, but making
use of the European language of the postnational discourse as a natural means of regional
communication‘ (Molnár 2001, 1).
The openness to communication must
mediate the recognition of common denominator, to find the elements that unite in order to
create or recreate a general valid ‗profile‘: the
shared identity. The outlines of defining a
Transylvanian solidarity was in stake. Miklós
Bakk speaks, on one hand, about ‗a historical
Transylvanian character‘, ‗complete and
dissonant‘, dominated by the tone of ethnic
radicalism, and a ‗Transylvanian character about
to be born‘, on the other hand, but unquestioned.
He also considered that: ‗As for the program of
Provincia, the most important is the constructivist point of view of a Transylvanian character
in statu nascendi. It is also based on realities that
are parts of developments and can be and are to
be interpreted, but that is the reason they become
elements that would enlarge the political
imaginary and its inner needed constructiveness.
Among realities of this Transylvania in
actu/instatu nascendi we can mention, for
instance, the data of electoral geography within
a much more developed Transylvanian civil
society
(which
is
even
statistically
demonstrable), the wider relations of the local
administration with the Western structures, the
map of the foreign investments and so forth.
Therefore, this constructiveness is the only way
different past periods can be related to each
other‘ (Bakk 2000b, 4).
Beyond the conceptual and identitary
valences, Provincia proposed a political project:
changing the political and administrative status
by abandoning centralism and supporting
autonomy as an appropriate solution of a
crossroads Romania. The way the autonomy had
to reveal itself differed from one individual to
another, but there was an unquestionable
unanimity regarding its necessity. This claim
was the utmost concern of the editorial board of
Provincia and their later crucial action: the
Memorandum that was to be issued by the
Romanian Parliament regarding the regional
construction.
In the following chapters we shall try to
analyse the way the idea of a Transylvanian
identity developed and how it should be set in a
regional political autonomist project.
The identity discourse
Our identity discourse analysis is
structured around three types of arguments that
we have identified in the pages of Provincia: the
cultural-historical, the economic-administrative
and the political argument. All of them come to
support the legitimacy of the view that this
region must be valued in a new stateadministrative project. As Daniel Vighi writes:
‗beside the economic and administrative
dimension, together with the political practice of
regionalization, we add one that seems to me to
be the most difficult among all: the clear
definition of regions as entities with common
history and destiny‘ (Vighi 2002 a). All these
facets of an evident particularity are taken by the
Transylvanian intellectuals that had in view to
demonstrate that ‗Transylvanian character‘ was
a reality that could not be ignored.
137
Cultural-historical argument
Any approach of the identity as a group
must start from cultural particularities shared by
its members. Boundaries separating social
groups are set primarily by fundamental
attributes of a person: ethnicity, language,
religion. Secondly, sharing a common historic
tradition could unite the individuals with
common characteristics. Yet, it can also separate
people that speak the same language or it could
unite those that are quite different.
Since Transylvania and Banat were
regions of ethnic and linguistic diversity, the
authors of the articles in Provincia insisted on
this particular aspect of identity and its
integrative effect of a commune historic
experience that could fade the ethnic and
cultural differences. In fact, the authors tried to
identify those features that made this region
stand out from the rest of Romania. Uniqueness
needed to be appealed to, but first of all it had to
be demonstrated. What made Transylvania claim
the difference, its peculiarity? Beyond the
existence on this territory of an important
number of Magyar and German minoritary
population, evidence that could justify the claim
to uniqueness was required. These were
identified by the emergence of a trans-ethnic
culture that was built in time and made a
Transylvanian Romanian be closer to a German
or a Magyar rather than a Romanian beyond the
Carpathians. ‗Transylvanian character is a
particular kind of knowledge, interpreting the
world is based on knowledge and respect other
people‘s language and culture that should never
be considered in terms like an excess or a
privation, but as cultural and moral basis that
make us review either our own advice or the
help coming from the mother-nations with a
critical Transylvanian eye. And the ethnological
miracle was possible only because of the
individual and collective self-confidence of the
Transylvanians. That is the reason why in
Transylvania cannot occur terrorist movements
like those in Serbia or Palestina‘ (Hajdú, 2000,
8).
It was also invoked what Kymlicka called
‗societal culture‘ that included ‗all aspects of
social existence, except from the cultural or
religious traditions, life styles or particular life
forms characteristic to the small communities or
families‘ (Salat 2001, 106).
The societal culture is required an official
language, but it does not depend on it only in so
far as shared values are disseminated through it.
The common values were transmitted whether
German, Magyar or Romanian was the official
language. They built a specific mentality that
should be recoverable, as recommended by
literary critic A. Cistelecan: ‗What Provincia
could really do is a restoration and,
simultaneously, a resemantization of the
Transylvanian specificity. It is a cultural
recovery operation, made not so much by
museum criteria but with an actual
consciousness of an effective aggiornamento, an
effective upgrade and reconsideration (…)
Provincia can operate an identification of
Transylvanian values (cultural, religious,
historical, social, even political) as a previous
stage for their recovery within in a current
model (of behaviour, society or organization). It
is naturally a valuable asset inventory, not of
anachronistic values, but of those that give
provincialism a trans-provincial vocation‘
(Cistelecan 2001a, 1).
And yet, what are the values that make a
Transylvanian, either Romanian or Magyar?
Some of the authors of the articles have tried the
reconsideration of certain behaviour patterns and
positive moral specific coordinates when placed
in contrast with those of the Răgăţeni (1).
Tolerance, reliability, labour worship, the
obvious community spirit, accuracy are the few
qualities emphasized in the pages of Provincia.
‗Having your own land, your own house, your
own church is the ultimate value of the
Transylvanian. Knowledge, ownership and
dialogue (especially the confessional one) with
the Occident placed him worthily in history.
These led to a higher degree of intellectuality of
the Transylvanian middle class. What a
Transylvanian could really want is not utopic:
good laws that allow him to get to selfdevelopment by his own efforts, good collecting
of taxes, good functioning of the institutions, the
elimination of bribery and intercession from the
public life, although they actually manage quite
well under these circumstances, but they have to
go to Bucharest and exchange marks for dollars‘
(Ştef 2000, 1).
Common historical development is the
primary condition of solidarity and it can indeed
stimulate the emergence of behavioural patterns
distributed in a society ethnically fragmented.
(1) The name was used by the Romanians from the
Austro-Hungarian Empire (including Transylvania, Crişana, Maramureş, Banat and Bucovina)
when speaking of the Romanians from the
Romanian Kingdom before 1918 (The Old
Romanian Kingdom).
138
But can it also generate a common intellectual
culture? In other words, do we deal only with a
‗societal culture‘ of a kind Kymlicka speaks of
or is it something more? Provincia tried to give
the necessary answers when dedicated a series of
numbers whose surveys focused on the literature
and history of Transylvania. When ethnicity or
language is not a cultural bond, the unifying
elements are required and they should come
from the headspace of the creative act. We have
in view the cultural act aware of itself that is
assumed as such: ‗Cultural relations have
indigenous mediation virtues‘, said Ion Simuţ,
and future political openness ‗cannot be reached
without passing through an intermediary stage of
a significant cultural openness‘ (Simuţ 2001, 5).
The way the history and literature are created
can justify such trans-ethnic bound especially
when it can be proved that there are channels of
communication between Romanian, Magyar or
German writers and historians. The respondents
to inquiries were personalities belonging to all
these ethnical groups, but their answers were
equivocal.
Historians can only note with sadness that
‗the Transylvanian historians elite refuse to play
its role: to put their intelligence and competence
to review the provincial past‘ (Pecican 2001, 7)
and that ‗we expect our descendants to write
only the requiem of a multicoloured region that
once had the virtualities of the Eastern
Switzerland‘ (Zoltán, 2001). The ‗Transylvanian
histories‘ were talked about in the same
distinctive manner as the ‗Transylvanian
literatures.‘ If a common historical work was
hampered by the ‗excessive applying of the
national criterion‘ (Egyed 2001, 12), an
approach of social issues and cultural background rather than the political view was
proposed by Harald Roth and Lucian Nastasă.
Nastasă is convinced that such an approach is
very fertile for a new way of history researching:
‗Transylvania should become a an experimental
space
for
avant-garde
historiographic
constructions by finding and introducing new
variables and new social and historic references
that make possible the comprehension in truthful
terms of the evolution of a multicultural society
due to the fact that the area region its
particularities such as the pluri-ethnic and pluriconfessional dimension‘ (Nastasă 2001, 9).
The attempt of identifying the vectors that
could establish an identity peculiar to the region
is the reason why Provincia initiated such
surveys for Transylvanian intellectuals. How can
regional claims be supported when there is no
linguistic unity like that of the Catalans,
Provensals, the Basques or the Flemings? They
base their claims on the self-determination of a
minority ethnical group and do not have to prove
its cultural cohesion. Thus, Provincia had a
difficult task: to confirm the existence of a
commune cultural life of people who belong to
two or more different traditions. It aimed to
prove that Transylvania, a space of Romanian,
Magyar and German cultural interactions, was
not a scene for competition and adversity, but of
confluences and mutual influences. There would
have emerged something new, very different
from what had already existed in Bucharest,
Wien or Berlin. The Transylvanian German
writer Eginald Schlattner thinks that this
specificity can be explained by the impossibility
of self-defining apart from others: ‗Therefore,
the author, who writes or composes within
Transylvanian region, or describes certain
regional life aspects, cannot ignore this
particular phenomenon: besides me or my
fellows, there is always ‗the other‘, under the
imperatives of a common history, a commune
political regime, common incidents included in
the same destiny, under the of protection of the
same God‘ (Schlattner 2000, 4).
The argument is based on the same
cultural and regional patterns that were invoked
by Provincia throughout its existence. We dare
say that such considerations that Provincia took
as the basis of its direction functioned as
arguments for the construction of a political
particular identity, together with economic
efficiency and justifications that required
changing the administrative structure of the
state.
3.2 The economic-administrative argument
Related to the Central Europe by a
common history, Transylvania experienced
different economic tradition quite different from
that of the Romanian Old Kingdom. The
economic relations oriented to Budapest and
Wien were contaminated by the speculation and
imposture of Moldavia‘s and Wallachia‘s. In
1918, Transylvania brought the most important
industrial contribution to the economy of
Romania and here are initiated the first
movements of the Romanian workers.
Therefore, the tradition of a regional solid
economy is significant and was always invoked
when the region‘s superiority was highlighted.
Despite the attempts of the communist regime to
balance the economic potential at the level of all
the historic Romanian provinces, Transylvania
139
and Banat continued to assert the primacy of
prosperity. The economic and administrative
system promoted after 1989 disadvantaged the
counties with a good economic situation for the
poor, in the name of solidarity. As substantial
contributors, the Transylvanians were at the
bottom of the list including the beneficiaries of
the government budget and could not enjoy the
benefits of their efficiency. The way the budget
funds were distributed – by obscure criteria for
most of the times – was considered an abuse of
the corrupt power circles from Bucharest that
managed maintaining their influence.
This centralized economic system
generated frustrations primarily because it was
perceived as unfit for the Transylvanians and
also propagated a system built on inefficiency
and illegality. Daniel Vighi recommended that
‗we have to stimulate within the Province the
development of a western popular capitalism by
the formula the more it is, the more people get it
instead of the southern pattern, the least it is to
as many as possible‘ (Vighi, 2001). The
Transylvanian writer identified the source of evil
in Old Romanian Kindom. Henceforth, the
immature economic vision was put in contrast
with the Western capitalism, traditionally
peculiar to the region. Transylvania was obliged
to bear inconveniences of a central incompetent
administration because its potential was ignored:
‗So far, no party has come up with a program to
demonstrate clearly that Transylvanians,
whether Romanians, Magyars, Saxons or Serbs,
could have been determined to (re)discover their
huge potential or to live better by self-managing
without the approval of Bucharest, such as the
way of making quickly and effectively the
decisions they needed, but above all, how they
could have had the chance to demonstrate all
these things being loyal to the Romanian state
that ensured their security‘ (Fati 2002, 1).
Economic disadvantage is a consequence of how the Romanian political class
conceived an administrative structure as a single
unit, undifferentiated, depending on the centre
responsible for all the aspects of social life.
Economic centralism is nothing but the result of
the administrative centralization. The centralized
vision is a constant feature of Romanian modern
political thought that identified any autonomous
tendency with the danger of national dissolution.
‗Since 1918, the centralization was the
instrument the authority from Bucharest and has
shown its omnipotence over the last decade
under the disguise of democracy and transition.
The administrative decentralization is always
related in the same equation to the unity of the
state, and the issue of unity implies a kind of
geographic mythology the local politicians
cannot get rid of‘ (Fati 2000a, 5).
The specificity of Transylvania is
mentioned again because of the past. Over time
and in different historic contexts, this region
fortunately experienced an autonomy that led to
the emergence of a reflex. The special status that
Transylvania had during its history saved it from
the inflexibility typical to the nationalist
centralism: ‗Transylvania has a different politic
tradition related to the Habsburg Empire, far
more generous and complex, deeply rooted in
the European tradition than the enthusiastic
attempts of the Romanians and the Magyars,
peculiar to the periods of assertion of rival
national states. This aspect gives tradition
certain topicalness‘ (Molnár 2000b, 7).
The political argument
Other dimension of a regional identity is
determined, as far as Provincia is concerned, by
the political orientation of the Transylvanian
voters after 1989. This aspect derived from the
results of the elections between 1990 and 1996,
when in Transylvania and Banat the right and
centre-right parties, in other words, parties
perceived as reformist and democratic by
intellectuals, achieved a significantly higher
percentage than in the other regions. This
observation was followed by explanations for
this phenomenon offered by analysts,
sociologists, political scientists and politicians
since the early 90s. Provincia’s editors tried to
gloss on this issue. They brought forward the
peculiarity of the votes from Transylvania in
order to support their identity theory. Al.
Cistelecan is convinced that the political elite
admitted ‗a certain dignity of the vote here that
has more nobleness resulting from the «rational»
judgement rather than mystic and visceral
identification of the vote in the other provinces‘
and, even if the political forces ‗gain in
Transylvania, but lose at the level of the country
as a whole, there is the consolation that the
Transylvanians voted for the most European
among the Romanian provinces‘ (Cistelecan
2000b, 1).
The political scientist Gusztáv Molnár is
the one who gave the utmost importance to this
aspect and he believes that ‗both Transylvania
and the Old Kingdom can be considered as
politically homogeneous macroregions‘ (Molnár
2000c, 3). He uses percentages of elections
results together with the results of the surveys in
140
order to demonstrate, first and foremost, a
qualitative difference of the vote in Transylvania
and Banat: ‗The political difference between the
Transylvanians and the Southern Romanians is
not their ethnicity. The minorities that are not
Magyar (5,63 %), the Magyars (20,76 %) and
the Transylvanian Romanians (73,6 %), together
and separately, have a pro/Western orientation
than the Răgăţeni. The political difference
between the Transylvanians and Răgăţeni is not
great, but sufficient to value the regional block
voting of the Magyars in the favour of proWestern forces. If - hypothetically speaking - the
Transylvanian Romanians would have exactly
the same options as the Răgăţeni, ‗the Magyar
factor‘ would not be sufficient in order to
maintain – even in Transylvania - a pro-Western
majority‘ (Molnár 2000a, 6).
G. Molnar shows, on the basis of the
ciphers, that the Transylvanian Romanians and
Magyars are oriented towards the same type of
vote to the same political class. He argues,
relying on results, that voting has an ethnic
connotation seeing that the Romanians do not
vote for UDMR, while the Magyars do so in an
overwhelming proportion, but it is more than
that. It is a vote for a particular policy because
the values promoted by CDR do not differ much
from those of UDMR. Regardless of ethnicity,
the Transylvanian vote reflects an option for a
certain political vision. Therefore, a Romanian
Transylvanian is closer to a Magyar than a
Romanian from the Southern part of the country
and it reveals the existence of a common
political identity and M. Cosmeanu thinks:
‗Therefore, the ‗qualitative political differences‘
of Transylvania, as G. Molnar called them - are
part (with the economic aspects, reporting to
work, life style, to mention only the best known)
of a specific societal culture and, most
importantly, it reveals the potentiality of the
region to find its regional and consequently
(Central) European vocation‘ (Cosmeanu 2000a,
9).
The orientation of the Romanian electorate
from this particular region to the pro-Western
parties demonstrates, in fact, the pro-democratic
a capitalist attitude of the Transylvanian
majority. Unlike the (‗Răgăţeni‘), contaminated
by political byzantinism and paternalist
tendencies, the Transylvanians were a more
critical mass able to trace a pro-European
direction. Historical tradition linking Transylvania and Banat to the Central Europe can be
capitalized by skilful policy in the integration
process. And yet, a significant degree of
autonomy was required. Only under these
conditions the political particularity could assert
itself here, too much suffocated by and the
balkanism of Bucharest. Autonomy was for the
benefit of Transylvania because it could
demonstrate its potential, but even Romania can
take advantage by the europenization of one of
its regions that would entail and accelerate the
process of integration at the level of the whole
country.
In cases when the vote of the
Transylvanians seemed to contradict the prodemocratic image of electoral behaviour, the
editors of Provincia offered different
explanations. Ioan Muşnea believes that the
votes gained by Gheorghe Funar when he ran for
mayor of Cluj are justified by a majority of
‗people that were not from Cluj or had just
moved there‘ (Muşnea 2000, 3).
Miklós Bakk refers in this context to ‗slum
voters camp – especially Mănăştur and Mărăşti –
built as a result of the politicy arising between
70‗s-80‘s‘ (Bakk 2000a, 1). G. Molnár tried to
offer a more elaborate answer when considering
the outcome of the general elections of
December 2000. It was that particular time when
the nationalist Corneliu Vadim Tudor, the Great
Romania Party candidate (PRM) had significant
scores in Transylvania and contradicted the
theory of the pro-democratic vote of the
electorate. The political scientist makes the same
qualitative difference between voters in
Transylvania and Banat and ‗Răgăţean‘: ‗while
in Transylvania, which belongs to the historical
and socio-cultural Central European, the current
domination of the post-communist parties is
fleeting and circumstantial in nature, in the Old
Kingdom it is more important and can be
considered as a given structural specificity
derived from Eastern European historical and
socio-cultural conditions there. Dominance of
center-right parties in 1996 there was
circumstantial and temporary in nature‘ (Molnár
2000e, 6).
In this context it is worth mentioning the
observation of Zoltan Kantor who noted that all
the initiatives that have been developed the
Transylvanian topic were elaborated on several
fundamental elements: UDMR‘s program, the
Memorandum, the Transylvanian Programme of
the ruling party (PSD), developed by members
of the Social Democrats in Cluj and the
inevitable slogan ‗Bucharest is their enemy‘
(Kántor 2002, 5). Inability of the centre to
develop regional policy, to set up developments
specific for each case is suspect and
141
unacceptable for Transylvanian intellectuals.
Antonela Capelle-Pogăcean sees in ‗ritual
reiteration of this fidelity‘ in the national unitary
state, which ‗occurs in a society where
integration, social cohesion, and solidarity of its
members are extremely low,‘ ‗the inability to
form a political community‘ (Capelle-Pogăcean
2000, 7).
from Provincia have addressed the Romanian
Parliament, the political parties and the
European Parliament (1).
Regionalism and autonomy
Agenda of Provincia was clear from the
outset. The points of view on the reason that
brought together these intellectuals, both
Romanian and Hungarian, were clearly exposed
in the first issue: ‗We want Transylvania to
become a center, but not above others, but on
equality and in a partnership centers‘ (Provincia,
2000, 1). Autonomist claims are not just a
selfish calculation. Centralism is considered
ineffective in principle on the whole. Decisionmaking power should be lowered to levels as
low as possible to become more effective.
Daniel Vighi believes that ‗regional exclusivity‘
must be avoided at all costs and this can only be
done ‗through an open approach and maximum
clarity public event framework. The open
approach is intended to avoid any possible
enclavizations and exclusivities in the sense that,
respecting regional specificities, what is valid
for Transylvania should be the same for
Dobrogea‘ (Vighi, 2000).
As
we
have
mentioned
before,
Transylvania‘s autonomy is considered an
appropriate solution in mediating the
relationship with Europe. Romania, which tries
to connect to the Community bodies of the
European Union, should take into account even
its political and administrative requirements. A
Europe of regions, a local decision space claims
the same from its future members. In addition,
this question arises more acutely in Transylvania
because there is a stronger identity that can
support
the
administrative
autonomous
construction. Once the region will take
advantage
of
their
administrations,
‗Transylvania must regain identity, have a
driving role in the issue of integration into the
European Union‘ by ‗re-creation‘ of the values
‗specific to the civil society‘ (Bakk 2002, 1).
István Rostas has the perspective of a
community rid of the national rhetoric, an
identity assumed by the Germans, the
Hungarians and the Romanians as well, which
were subordinated, firstly, to a civic and uniting
principle: ‗If we indeed want in Transylvania a
functional political society, a citizen community
with proper institutional system that naturally
fits into the Romanian state, in this case we must
The regional political project
As mentioned above, the aim of Provincia
was clearly expressed from outset: the autonomy
of Transylvania, a radical political project in the
context of centralism that no important political
has failed to separate. The identity arguments
came to give consistency to an idea that was
regarded with suspicion, if not with hostility.
The existence of the autonomist project did not
mean that the people that assumed it also shared
a coherent and identical vision of what it really
implied. Autonomy was imagined in various
forms, from decentralization to federalism
decisions. Pleas for one or other solution were
presented and disputed in the pages of the same
magazine just by virtue of the dialogue assumed
by the authors that they never failed. The
unconvincing arguments were being resumed
together with certain ideas, depending on the
evolution of events in Europe, such as the
adoption in Hungary of the law concerning the
statute of the Magyars from abroad or the
declaration of Voivodina‘s autonomy. In
principle, these can be summarized by a
statement of G. Molnár, who conceived the
region as ‗a territory which constitutes a
historical identity or, more precisely, is
established as a political issue in a nation-state
to which it belongs and in the context of supranational European Union. Thus, the political
region functions as a constitutional framework
for sub-national political community that - if the
case of Transylvania – is also one transnational
and trans-ethnic!‘ (Provincia 2002, 6).
Means by which to achieve the intended
result was also disputed. Opinions were divided
on the steps to be taken. There were voices
proposing the introduction of the consociational
model and deemed appropriate the setting up of
a trans-ethnic party able to represent the interests
of the region. Whatever the positions of the
signatories, they caused frequently reactions in
public. If the problem of Transylvanian space‘s
own identity caused no reactions, the sensitive
issue of autonomy was not without echoes and
the most important came from Memorandum for
regional construction of Romania that people
(1) The Memorandum was signed by several dozen
intellectuals, Romanian and Hungarian.
142
stand above the national sphere. Of course – and
I stress upon it – without denying the national
identity. National dimension is a vital issue, but
in my view it starts to go into the private sphere,
as happened much earlier with the religious
identity. The peculiarity of the situation in
Transylvania is that building political and legal
system able to ensure the right to national
identity, together with its preservation and
development, might be only one trans-ethnic‘
(Rostás 2000, 10).
On the other hand, there are voices
convinced that the Hungarian minority can
finally assert its cultural heritage satisfactorily.
Ethnicity cannot be ignored, in their opinion.
‗Political nation‘s fiction, released from its
ethnic size‘ is dangerous, ‗the citizen
integration‘ of the individuals will not be
possible at this juncture, but the sensitive issue
of ‗cultural nation‘ can cause the formulation of
the cause of Hungarians from Romania as a
matter of public right that can be reconciled with
the reform of state structures regarding the
future of Romania in the European Union‘;
moreover, it will appear as ‗a constitutional
solution that would allow integration of the
Transylvanian Hungarians as a national
community‘ (Bakk 2002, 1). G. Molnár
reconciles, in a way, the two concepts when
recognizes in Transylvania ‗something like the
German Heimat, but not in the traditionalist
sense, but in consonance with what the
European Union means by 'constitutional
regions', a term contained in our Memorandum.
There is not an exclusive homeland, but one that
fits in and relates to other higher homelands.
Since I am a Hungarian from Transylvania, I am
a Transylvanian and, in a certain sense, also a
Romanian, having in view that the Hungarians
consider me this way, but I can also assume this
identity if Romanian homeland refuses me the
right to my region, and I am and trying to be
European. You can have more homes, but you
have first of all a country-region to set out from
that has a primary legitimacy. Only a
Transylvania thus conceived can restore the
home feeling to the Hungarians here. It remains
to be seen whether the Romanians think - or at
least if they are Romanian and who can think
and feel - the same. Because on this depends the
success or failure of this concept‘ (Provincia
2002, 6).
Beyond this cultural-anthropological
argument, the motivation of each of the
signatories of the magazine articles differ from
each other. For many of them, the economic
factor occupies an important position.
Disadvantages arising from the inability of
central authority or lack of sufficient political
will are quite obvious, as plainly and simply
Traian Ştef justifies: ‗For these particular
reasons, regionalization is better. Dl. Mitrea has
no longer to decide whether we need new road
in Transylvania, or when, or where, or whom (he
likes the partnership of the Italians). If there are
many things done with our money, at least we
shall not be the last...‘ (Ştef 2001, 4). For his
part, Ioan Buduca has a more complex view
because the economic dimension is closely
related to a political one. For him, the economic
and the political latencies may be issued
simultaneously by the provincial regime change
that will ‗become again a source of political
liberalism and, therefore, of national welfare if
the national problem will spill, all in great? Will
the European community will its name? I shall
go back to the historical value options. Only two
appear to be on the table. Others have not been
invented yet. Either federalization of the country
or devolution of the Transylvanian region‘
(Buduca 2000, 5).
As a consensus on the need for
autonomous provinces, there is unanimity about
the fact that this province must remain within
the borders of Romania. As for the legal form
that the autonomy must take, the Transylvanian
intellectuals are making, in my view, only
proposals. That fact that they talk about federalism or devolution does not mean that they
support either of the options. They want, first of
all, to discuss this possibility, to bring it to the
attention of the public and political agenda of
parties as a significant problem, using a current
and balanced language. This degree of autonomy
bears variations from each of the authors.
Gusztáv Molnár believes in the possibility of
devolution, unlike Gabriel Andreescu, O.
Pecican Sabina Fati. Existing regional European
models such as Scotland, Catalonia, Kosovo,
Vojvodina are discussed and are presented
different systems of organization of the states
that practice, in one form or another, autonomy
from Britain and Switzerland to Germany and
Italy.
This problem is related to the initiative to
develop A regional construction Memorandum
of Romania summarizing in 10 points the ideas
that have been the subject of so many pages of
the magazine. This document addressed to the
Parliament and political parties caused reactions
ranging from remarks such as the Prime Minister
Adrian Năstase, who catalogued the signatories
143
as ‗lost‘ until benevolent reading. We shall not
do here a summary thereof, but it must be said
that it was the highest ‗audience‘ point that
Provincia enjoyed.
The authors did not have the naivety to
believe that the Memorandum will produce
immediate changes, nor that the public opinion
dominated by ‗sacred nation‘ and ‗myth of
unity‘ will suddenly consent to these
requirements, but they wanted to ‗create a
precedent idea, to create a history and, at the
same time, they want it out of the arsenal of
political adventurers such as Sabin Gherman‘
(Vlad 2002, 2). Autonomy is no panacea for all
kinds of problems facing region is confronted
with. They have enough lucidity to avoid
absolutist statements and idealized projections
on an idealized future: ‗The models proposed in
Memorandum – Catalonia, Scotland, Bavaria –
and others have to be seen, as I said, in the
particular context of the current Romanian
frames. Among Romanian regions there are
similarities and differences, interference, for
each has its potentialities, aspects of which we
start in elaborating the Memorandum. Regions
that the signatories of the Memorandum
represented are, in turn, specific evils. We did
not say that Transylvania is like Bavaria and
Catalonia, we are perfectly aware of our limits.
We've got trains, roads, mayors, corruption,
balkanization and so forth. It is just that we
believe these can be directed quickly by
delegating responsibilities and management
issues at the regional level, in short by
subsidiarity‘ (Cosmeanu 2002, 5).
Here, in this plea for autonomy of the
Transylvanians, one can identify all the reasons
that contributed to the construction of identity
discourse and how they were made in support of
this grievance. Whether it was claimed on behalf
of a specific culture, an economic emergency
and the principles of effective policies,
provincial autonomy cannot be separated from
identity discourse.
an early form it requires a collaboration of elites
of the ethnic groups and, in a more acute form,
the rising of a promoter of trans-ethnic interests
in politics. It aims at setting a strategy of the
Transylvanians to amend the statute, to
consequently achieve autonomy and is,
therefore, a necessary step due to the need for
change. Inertia of the system, its inability to selfreformation imposes the emergence of new
political actor to push things in the direction of
the real reform. Specifically, we discuss the
possibility of Provincia to establish a regional
political party.
On the other hand, this concept is linked to
the special character of Transylvania. The
multicultural and multiethnic tradition of the
province, the existence of significant minority
groups requires those seeking ‗reinventing‘ its
policy to adapt to this context. Here we are
dealing rather with a view on how the policy
should be at the level of autonomous provinces.
In this situation, power relationships are totally
different and traditional formulas can no longer
meet reality on the ground. The political
foundation has to be modified and reinstalled
based on a model that satisfies all the groups that
make up the new structure. At this point, the
discussions at Provincia focused on the
necessity to adopt a consociational political
system type.
The idea of a policy to unite members of
different identity groups arises naturally by
Provincia itself, bringing together Hungarians
and Romanians. The magazine is the first step in
finalizing a possible future joint political action.
Lack of adequate response from the political
class to the idea of autonomy will convince the
Transylvanian intellectuals of the need for new
approaches. The results of the general elections
of 2000, when the parties with nationalist
message had very high scores, convinced the
intellectuals of Provincia that their message will
have the opportunity to be heard. The absence of
a political ‗vehicle‘ to take their message is the
very cause that gave birth to the idea of a party:
‗Let us ask now if such a party is needed. The
answer is clear: there is no need since the
existing party would respond by its platform and
events to the regional grievances‘ (Ştef 2002, 1).
However, such an opinion is not shared by
everyone. Ovidiu Pecican believes that a
political movement would compromise if it
would come into the play of political parties, so
he prefers a civic movement (Pecican, 2000, 4).
Sabina Fati has the same view and believes that
the emergence of such a party could strengthen
Trans-ethnic politics
The trans-politics that the members of
Provincia talk about, aims at two specific times,
or rather, two contexts. First, it is currently
connected (2000-2001) with the de facto
situation that the status of Transylvania holds in
a centralized state system. It is the ‗primary‘
form of this type of political action and the very
one that can get clearer in an immediate period
of time. As for its achievements, no major
changes in the political system are required. In
144
the parties‘ position by a nationalist discourse
(Fati 2000b, 4). In turn, Antonela CapellePogăcean shows openness to such an approach,
but does not believe in its chances of success
(Capelle-Pogăcean 2000, 7). The most enthusiastic supporters of a political party are also
members of Hungarian origin group of
Provincia: Gusztáv Molnár, who launched this
idea, and Miklós Bakk, who is very empathetic
when approaching the topic: ‗Transylvania has
two solutions, either autonomy or it should
establish a regional party ―trans-ethnic‖ which,
tearing the originary centralism of the party
system in Romania (...) will change the structure
of the Romanian public‘ (Bakk 2002, 1). Equally
convinced of the legitimacy of such a party is
Adrian Docea, who contradicts O. Pecican when
asserting that an action that clings to remain in a
civic expectation will have no chance. Politics is
that there has the levers and this is the level
where it has to be operated: ‗Outside political
activity, any cultural movement, pro-European,
pro-Transylvanian or any other cannot bring
human welfare. And well-being comes from a
strong economy, a strong economy exists only
where the environment allows. Political role is
to create this environment; the role of a
regionalist party to bring prosperity in
Transylvania, the role of Provincia is to launch
such a party. We must take responsibility for the
welfare of the region for the sake of the people
who expect a change‘ (Docea 2001, 4).
Discussions around this project were
numerous and were not limited to the question
whether its existence was necessary, but were
also extended to its strategy, to the way it should
have been situated on the political scene and its
purposes: ‗In short, a trans-ethnic Transylvanian
party should assert on the outset that builds not
against anyone – Bucharest or Budapest, or
UDMR, even if they come into power with these
poles, for obvious reasons - but for something.
Not for accelerating social disintegration, but to
redefine solidarity on a more fair foundations
and thus restore its meaning. It is a question of
solidarity among Romanians in various
provinces, but also between Romanians and
Hungarians in Transylvania. Such a party would
aim to strengthen democracy in Transylvania
and the rest of the country. A Transylvania
benefitting
from
increased
democratic
competences in an authoritarian Romania falling
into chaos does not seem a credible future
perspective‘ (Capelle-Pogăcean 2000, 7).
Discussions around trans-ethnic policy
capable of managing existing relationships and
reality in a multiethnic space were much deeper.
They are related to the particular situation of this
region as it is recommended to apply the
consociational model of democracy according to
the model described by A. Lijphart, based on
‗the pillars‘ of subcultures who want to coexist
and consequently institutionalize themselves.
This model cannot be applied at the level of the
whole country, as Gusztáv Molnár believed, but
only regionally (Molnár 2000 d). Again, the
historical tradition is called upon to support the
present political identity. On the other hand,
Kantor Zoltan is not convinced by the optimistic
outlook that ignores the fact that while
Hungarians can be considered as members of a
subculture, Transylvanian Romanians have not
yet made such a structure. Only when its
formation is certain, the possibility of
consociationalism can be seriously taken into
account (Kántor 2001a, 7). But the same author
hopes that Provincia should help strengthen the
Transylvanian political identity: ‗In my
interpretation, in the first numbers, as further
results of the article The Transylvanian Issue,
the emphasis is put more on regionalism and
federalism, while the real question is a new way
of thinking, trying to seek the common notes
inside Transylvania and also substantiate the
possible actions and policy frameworks that are
fed from such a perspective. Numbers of
Provincia dealing with the Transylvanian
literature, civil nationalism and trans-ethnic
history aim at the formation of a common
political culture, and the idea of a party and the
consociationalism model can lead to the policy
framework and a common political action‘
(Kántor 2001a, 7).
This is, in our view, the observation that
summarizes the issue best. Recognition of a
common political identity, Hungarian and
Romanian, must precede the idea of a party and
a consociationalist future. And these may evolve
over time to a policy wherein ethnically and
culturally different element might become
secondary considerations. No matter how important the common agenda of these intellectuals is,
it will always be subordinate to the more
complex issue of the necessity of the public
consciousness transformation.
Provincia as a model
Time has proved that the objectives settled
by the Transylvanian intellectuals of Provincia
were not materialized. Obviously, the reasons
for this failure are due, first of all, the context in
which they are conceived: the rigid political-
145
administrative system, the political class lacking
will and coherent, and also a society dominated
by suspicion. Nobody can ignore these realities
and the fact that they made impossible to put
into reality the project of autonomy, but there is,
in our opinion, another set of causes that could
explain the failure, deriving from the very
argumentative structure of Provincia. Analysis
of endogenous causes of ‗failure‘ will contribute
to a complete picture of the Provincia
‗phenomenon‘. Analysis of the weaknesses,
inconsistencies and contradictions will be made
separately from the identity discourse and
political project.
text of the first number that speaks of the goals
of the magazine.
Vilmos Ágoston is very firm when
expressing his view: it was never possible to
speak of a common identity and ‗the reason this
goal could not be achieved is that the people of
Transylvania did not live their own national
dramas at the same time‘ (Vilmos 2000).
Miklós Bakk speaks of two types of
Transylvania specificity. The one that belongs to
the past, ‗in vitro‘, as he calls, ‗is peculiar to the
histories somewhat ended. This is made up of
the body of stories that contradict each other and
need not be talked about, and at the discursive
level are stories that need to be discussed or
disclosed by each other.‘ But it cannot build the
present because it no longer exists. Neither the
present perspective is better because the
Transylvanian specificity ‗in vivo‘, the one we
live in today, ‗is more refractory to the
constructivist point of view. The central issue of
this rejection is that communist hegemony
permanently deleted social and civilizational
characteristics that gave Transylvania specificity
and therefore, the modern Transylvania
specificity as the regional strategy has lost its
foundations‘ (Bakk 2000b, 4). For Bakk, neither
the past nor the present could synthesize the
solidarity peculiar
to an
autonomous
community.
Things seem to be the same in terms of
‗high culture‘. We refer here precisely to the
creative act, to art itself. Are the intellectual
elites able to cross ethnic and cultural
boundaries, set frames to the culture of the
region? If this level is found such realities, there
is still hope. Intellectuals, elites are the ones who
must take the first step and ‗pull‘ masses behind
them. This is the meaning of Transylvanian
literature survey about which I have spoken. In
the absence of popular culture, hope must
withdraw behind the ‗great culture‘ that is open
to the other by definition.
Responses of the writers seem to show,
however, two things. The first is the existence of
a parallelism between ‗literatures‘ evolving from
separate lanes. It is not a matter of different
approaches, thematic or stylistic, between
speakers of different languages, but rather of
neglecting the other, especially when the
Romanian writers do not know German or
Hungarian (1). Linguistic distances are, in this
Identity discourse limits
The idea of a separate identity, which
history has created here, occupied a central role
among the magazine. The reasons why this
happened were presented in Chapter 4. Now we
shall try to show further what the limits of the
identity project were. Was there a
‗Transylvanian identity‘? Did the ages attenuate
ethno-cultural
differences
between
the
Romanians, the Hungarians and the Germans?
The answer was obvious to everyone: no, they
didn‘t. The type of identity they had in view was
a
‗supraidentity‘,
a
common
cultural
consciousness settled on a different ethnic
background for each community. Differences
must not have been erased, but faded. There
were still Romanians and Hungarians, but all
along, they were all Transylvanians, and this
must be the foundation of the social and politic
consciousness. We talked about the arguments
that would prove its presence, without
mentioning the imminent delays and doubts.
The main reason why it could not occur is
history itself, which never reconciled parties.
Transylvania is a history of conflict, of the
roughness and segregation. Shortages meant the
rights of others, and the neighbourhood was
perceived rather as a curse than a blessing.
History, regardless of who it was written, tended
to divide us. Therefore, the call to the past is
selectively targeting only those isolated
moments that brought them all together. In the
investigation on the possibility of writing a
history of the province in a form acceptable to
everyone, respondents are not convinced of the
feasibility of this approach. Their detention
comes from the fact that the past history of this
region is composed of separate histories that
cannot be reconciled and could ‗lead to blocking
the present alternatives‘ as is recognized in the
(1) This is especially obvious in Hungarian language
literature. There are very rare the cases where the
146
nothing but to prove that this is so: ‗The
conclusion I could draw from the latest issue
dedicated to literature is that we are dealing with
a literary rather Romanian, Hungarian and
German from Transylvania than of a
Transylvanian one. So, the alchemy of the
articles published in other numbers reveals not
―trans-ethnic‖ Transylvanian character, as
Gusztáv Molnár desired, its main protagonist,
but a Transylvanism mainly Romanian and
Hungarian‘ (Cosmeanu 2000b, 11).
Beyond these cultural and historical
realities, a problem is represented by the
different way in which is the identity. In the
magazine there were divergent views on its
central attributes, especially when bringing
forward the civic nation as against ethno-cultural
nation and the abroad Hungarians status law
adopted
by
Hungary.
For
Hungarian
intellectuals, the initiative is welcome and
necessary (Bakk 2001a, 1; Kántor 2001b, 6-7),
since the states where they live cannot be
‗neutral in terms of ethno-cultural‘. This concept
is common to those theorists who claim the right
of minorities to autonomy, such as Will
Kymlicka, and believe that you cannot ignore
ethnic group size. Ethnic as identity joint
overrides other characteristics and must be
supported by positive measures. Zoltán Kántor
believes that ‗an uncritical taking‘ of
multiculturalist concepts can harm and
eventually cause nationalistic tendencies (Kántor
2002, 5). Against them stands some voices like
that of Gabriel Andreescu, who considers this
conception retrograde and problematic: ‗The
Hungarian bill introduces a completely different
vision. The national spirit is invoked in order to
mobilize all the Hungarians in Central-Eastern
European region. He enters, in international law,
the ―Hungarian nation‖ in the ethnic sense. As a
result, he ―will crush‖ the constitutional
patriotism logic from the surrounding countries.
Project opposes obviously the multicultural
spirit that expresses not only the difference, but
the
principle
of
coexistence
interest.
Multiculturalism should be understood as
meaning the need for a degree of integration of
minorities in the wider society, as well as a
degree of separation of their right to enjoy the
―deprivation‖ (a similar community concept is
needed!). Necessary fairness of the society
comes from a right balance between the two
trends. The Hungarian project encourages
separation of the minority from majority, with
no constructive elements towards integration‘
(Andreescu 2001, 4).
case, insulated and there were only timid
attempts to overcome them. Then, most are
reluctant to speak of a ‗Transylvanian literature‘,
either because they cannot identify, either
because they fear being placed in an area of
cultural provincialism, of petty localism. ‗Few
things have turned out clearer than the shame of
being Transylvanian. And beyond shame, there
is also the anguish of being Transylvanian.
Hence the need to exorcise and to suppress, as
much as possible, the fatality or the accident of
fate. Rightly Few writers participating in the
survey questions and issues rightly taunted them
because, in literature, there is nothing more
compromising than the label of ‗Transylvanian
writer‘ (Cistelecan 2000a, 1). These investigations have shown that cultural identity stops
where ‗strong values ‘of modernity emerge.
Multicultural postmodern identity, as Daniel
Vighi call it, remains a goal for the future.
Language and the idea of nation are boundaries
that have not been exceeded. It is generally true
that cultural act in general is claimed to be
universal and eludes labels that would ‗reduce‘
it, but we cannot ignore the sharp reality from
Cluj, as the writer Ion Moldvan stated: ‗There
are writers like Romanians, Hungarians,
Germans (so many abroad) living in
Transylvania and almost all ignoring each other‘
(Moldovan, 2000, 6). The reason there is no
unity is that ‗writers who create works here
intend to be – by the national language and
traditions – parts of the national literature as a
whole, of its vital functions – so to speak.
Moreover: minority culture can be conceived in
such terms, for Magyar language is not part of
those ‗cultures with more language centers‘
(Borcsa 2000, 6). In the articles of the editors
comes up again the observation that the identity
is linked to a Transylvanian Romanian and one
Hungarian identity, to the different visions of
Bucharest and Budapest respectively. These are
the centers that regulate sensitivities and
attachments and would struggle against each
other. In order to coagulate a ‗Transylvanian
spirit‘, the region must have been developed
beyond their influences.
The attempts to demonstrate the
uniqueness of the Transylvanian failed to
convince. Surely, there are certain characteristics
and traits that cannot be ignored, but they are
dominated by the traditional national attachments and the discussions on this identity did
names of the authors expressing in this language
are even mentioned.
147
Andreescu is the proponent of ‗the civic
community‘ which is formed by democratic
individual ownership of the common interests
that would make way to the association of
cultural and normative bases. It is essential for
such a community that it puts the ethnic values
in the background, without ignoring them,
however (Andreescu 2000a, 6). Romania has to
follow this particular path that would make the
approach lighter as far as the issue of autonomy
is concerned.
These differences of opinion mark the
existence of major problems: the lack of
substantial consistency. Calm dialogue and
openness to the other cannot compensate for the
lack of a common vision of what Transylvanian
is supposed to be. As far as we have seen, there
is a quasi-unanimous part that considers that
Transylvanian identity has not had the
opportunity to define and overcome earlier
national loyalties and that it must be born as
soon as possible. But this potential identity
cannot be built without an agreement on what
form it should take. Failing this, any program is
bankrupt.
one hand, as there was not between
Transylvanians and Răgăţeni. Each party
suspected the other of hidden interests. So,
solidarity has not proved strong enough in order
to entail the formation of a sufficiently critical
mass that could assert the plan. We must not
forget that the Transylvanian intellectuals are
not politicians, do not have the exercise and
abilities of such fighting profile. Let us turn each
of these two issues.
The main problem is the ethnic
differences. Provincia is aware of this. Many
articles indicate the different approaches the
Romanians and Hungarians have. The ethnic
cleavage of Transylvanians is transposed
between the editors. It is true that here it has this
other – more diluted, ‗tamed‘ – form, yet
remains visible. ‗While Hungarians Transylvanism is of political nature, aspect stressed at
the meeting the editorial staff had this summer at
the University Bálványos, the Romanian
Transylvanism is mainly cultural. This difference between the Hungarians the hard speech
of the Hungarians and the soft one of the
Romanians is given, in my opinion, by the
degree of ownership of the options, by the limits
up to which the two discourses aim to reach‘
(Cosmeanu 2000b, 11).
We would like to note a difference in
speech between Romanian and Hungarian
editors. The regionalism of the formers is
motivated first of all on economic and political
arguments, while that of others has a strong
identity particularity (see Ştef 2002, 1; Sereş
2001, 7; Fati 2000a, 5; and Bakk 2001b, 5;
Kántor 2002, 5 on the other side).
Kántor Zoltán remarks a covering current
reality in Romania, profound both in mass and in
the circle of intellectuals: ‗There are, of course,
interests beyond ethny or the nation, but they
seem to be provisional, dependent on a given
politic situation. Instead, as soon as there is a
conflict ethnically relevant, the temporary
collaborations cease and the consolidation on
ethnic grounds is again decisive‘ (Kántor 2000,
2). Validity of this statement is symptomatic and
can be easily verified. There is not only a
difference of tone between hard and soft, but the
option, either. This evidence was obvious when I
referred to the discussions around Hungarian
status law abroad. In debates, Hungarian
intellectuals argued to support the validity of the
document, issued by the Hungarian state.
Romanian editors, when did not stand up against
it, were in a defensive position.
Failure of political project
What were the chances for the project of
autonomy of Provincia to be accepted by
society? UDMR in government with PDSR, a
nationalist party after the 2000 elections, could
be a sign of normalization of the situation, and
integration into Euro-Atlantic structures
signifies the transition to another phase of
political orientation. However, Transylvania and
Banat, like other historical regions, continued to
be parts of the same centralized administrative
system.
The reasons Provincia did not produce the
desired change are directly related, as I said, to
the political context. But as the idea
Transylvanian identity has proven its internal
weaknesses, the political approach also has its
own difficulties. Of course, they are related to
several aspects that we shall take into account
First, such a political program requires the
mobilization of major political resources – and
here I refer to what experts call ‗social capital‘,
which refers to ‗features of social organization
such as trust, norms, social relationships, namely
those relations that can improve efficiency by
facilitating coordinated actions‘ (Putman 2001).
Or, Provincia failed to establish that trust and
solidarity between those who had to stand up
and support such a policy. There was not enough
trust between Romanians and Hungarians, on
148
Although the differences of opinion
between the editors cannot be overlooked, they
are not the major obstacles because were
assumed by of each of them and passed into the
background to the advantage of the idea of
regionalization. The biggest problem is the
absence of a reaction from the population.
Provincia fails to mobilize people around its
project; the public reaction is minor and limited
to a few intellectuals adhesions. The interest in
autonomy is even lower among the majority,
especially if we consider the information that
edition in Hungarian of Provincia is sold better
than the Romanian (Cosmeanu 2000b, 11).
When speaking of consociational system and of
the fact that it is based on the existence of
subcultures that support ‗pillars‘, Kántor Zoltán
notices that such a Hungarian subculture exists,
but ‗behind the narrow circle of the Romanian
Transylvanian intellectuals who participated to
this debate, there is still no subculture to support
this group‘ (Kántor 2001a, 7).
‗Silence‘ around Provincia brought to the
table the idea that a trans-ethnic party as a
vehicle could activate activate the latent popular
reactions. The intellectuals‘ work is not
sufficient and therefore Provincia must become
more than it is: ‗Unfortunately, it is not enough.
Provincia has not proved that they have the
strength to play an important role in
Transylvania. Moreover, the magazine addresses
only to intellectuals and media impact is very
low, therefore the minimal effect on the
population. Transylvania has no time to lose.
Transylvania has no time to talk. Specific
Transylvanian intellectual passivity has never
brought practical results‘ (Docea 2001, 4).
Hence the idea of Gusztáv Molnár and
Adrian Docea‘s call for creating a party. This
initiative is born after the 2000 elections have
shown the willingness of the electorate to
nationalist message and removed the idea of the
exceptional Transylvanian voter. It also
indicated that Provincia must change its
strategy. It should come out of provincialism, to
seek support from outside the region in order to
become truly influential. The strategy is
proposed by Caius Dobrescu as a solution to the
lack of popular support: ‗I think we should
understand from these results that the
Transylvanian Romanians are trapped in the clan
laws culture as Omerta (to quote a brilliant
formula of Ovid Pecican) and will never be on
our side; on the other hand, those illustrating the
political culture type in the extracarpathian
liberal provinces (and they are not few) are truly
our allies. I think Provincia should remove its
very provincial specific character, expand the
dialogue on decentralization across the country
and become a forum of discussion for all the
intellectuals interested in this project, and focus
on demonstrating the idea that devolution has
significant benefit not only to Transylvania, but
for Romania as a whole‘ (Dobrescu, 2000).
Lacking a positive reaction from
Transylvania, the Romanian-Hungarian solidarity ‗on the ground‘, without strong arguments
for identity issue and unitary vision neither, the
concepts of autonomy remains out of the reach
of the well-meaning intellectuals, but without
the ability to pass it into reality. The project
remains in the politically courageous concepts,
but a conceptual reality without actual
transposition: ‗In so many controversies, without
the chance to reach a conclusion, the idea of
federalization is gradually trivialize, even if it
tends to arise passions and fears. Since there is
likely to be viable, blocked at the design stage, it
has all the attributes of a utopia‘ (Sereş 2001, 2).
Conclusions
After two years and 24 issues, the
magazine ceased to appear. People who formed
the editorial board continued to speak to the
media on this topic or have left to pursue other
things. The distinct voice demanding, on behalf
of a separate identity, autonomy region
disappeared, broke and lost in a noisy and deaf
society. Provincia editors know that there were
not an immediate success premises, we shall not
imagine that they were naive to believe in a
Transylvanian autonomy that would have made
it overnight.
It is extremely difficult to build an identity
that would overcome the ethno-cultural
foundation. Moreover, we could not find in the
specialized literature or contemporary debates
on different autonomous regions a similar case.
Construction of identity, the right to selfdetermination, and the relations within a
multicultural state are based on the premises of a
community that differs from the majority by its
ethno-cultural
components.
Provincia’s
uniqueness relies on the evidence that it aimed
to overcome this pattern. The fact that it failed to
demonstrate the existence of a ‗Transylvanian
spirit‘ was the sign that the support for
independence could not be achieved. History of
this part of the world tells us that national
identity precedes the national state. Such is the
case here.
149
The most important achievement of
Provincia was to show that dialogue is possible.
Seemed so different the parts involved that
seemed so different could sit and discuss issues
that concerned all of them, without passion,
without reproach, without eluding. Each of the
participants in this dialogue have assumed the
risk of an opprobrium from their fellows that
would have accused (and actually accused
them!) of the ‗fraternization with the enemy‘,
but they did so in order to help establish a state
of normality in the Romanian society. László
Fey presented in an article this particular reality,
the unpleasing position of those who believed
that the others are not enemies, but partners:
‗The advocates of dialogue – both Hungarian
and Romanian – are between a rock and a hard
place. Organizations such as The Association for
Interethnic Dialogue are regarded with
bewilderment and disbelief. The mildest
objection is that they are unnecessary because
they are ineffective. Others are of the opinion
that they are even harmful, because feeding
illusions they would distract the attention from
the real task: the resolute, radical fight against
the ―eternal enemy‖, the defeat of the Hungarian
revisionists, respectively - mutatis mutandis - the
Romanian oppressors. Perhaps many have this
opinion about Provincia itself. But time is
working for the benefit of us, the bridge
builders. Although some people do not want to
join Europe, European thinking gains ground, it
is the very future. Today we are still in the
minority as compared to the Romanian majority,
that is the Hungarian minority, but we trust that,
in time, will increase the number of followers of
the dialogue will increase and change the
balance of forces in our favour‘ (Fey 2001, 8).
Time has proven optimistic. Even today
there are but several voices to support this
identity construction. It is obvious that many of
those who denounced the threat of a RomanianHungarian partnership fortunately disappeared.
Andreescu
2001
Bakk
2000a
Bakk
2000b
Bakk
2001a
Bakk
2001b
Bakk 2002
Bercea
2001
Borcsa
2000
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genera principii în relaţia
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[The Roulette. Romanians and
Hungarians], Iaşi, Polirom 2001.
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P.,
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refacerea ordinii mondiale [The
Clash of Civilizations and the
Remaking of World Order],
Bucureşti, Antet, 1998.
Mitu, Sorin, Geneza identităţii
Mitu 1997
naţionale la românii ardeleni
[The Genesis of Transylvanian
Romanians’ National Identity],
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Robert, Nanetti, Raffaela Y.,
alii 2001
Cum funcţionează democraţia?
[Makeing Democracy Work],
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European, 2008).
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Andreescu
2001
Book chapters:
Carpinschi Carpinschi, Anton, ―Identitate şi
recunoştere. Un joc cu final
2010
deschis‖
[Identity
and
Recognition. A Game With Open
Ending]. In Boari, V., Gherghina,
S., Murea, R (eds.), Regăsirea
identităţii
naţionale
[The
Recovery of National Identity],
Iaşi, Polirom, 2010, p. 67-91.
Valer,
―Identitatea
Vereş 2010 Vereş,
minoritară ca oglindă a idenţităţii
majoritare. Analita comparata a
identităţii minorităţilor maghiare
din România, Serbia, Slovacia şi
Ucraina‖ [The Identity of
Minorities as a Mirror of the
Majority‘s
Identity.
The
Comparative Analysis of the
Hungarian Minorities‘ Identities
From Romania, Serbia, Slovakia
and Ukraine]. In Boari, V,
Gherghina, S., Murea, R (eds),
Regăsirea identităţii naţionale
[The Recovery of National
Identity], Iaşi, Polirom, 2010, p.
130-173.
Books:
***
M-am săturat de România.
Fenomenul Sabin Gherman în
viziunea presei [I’ve Had
Enough of Romania. The Sabin
Gherman Phenomenon from the
Perspective of the Press], ClujNapoca, Erdélyi Híradó, 1999.
153
An Indication of Option: Bio-Power
Viorella MANOLACHE
Researcher, PhD
Institute of Political Science and International Relations of the Romanian Academy
E-mail: vio_s13@yahoo.com / viorella.manolache@ispri.ro
Abstract. The present study (a preliminary research of an authored book approaching Repere
teoretice în biopolitică [Biopolitics. Theorethical Approaches], in order to be published in 2013) proposes
to disentangle the threads firmly gathered around bio-power [not in fashion, not outside it, undertaken and
equally remade, by its political philosophy (hard or soft) operating contemporary extensions] – a hybrid
concept. This establishes that, within bio-politics, discourse and its program are maintained as Foucault
approaches, by excellence. Discursively, the study considers as a starting point bio-power as a weird term
(Foucault 2009, 11). The overall stance of fundamental biological mechanisms are the features which, by
transplanting within political strategy (overall strategy power), organised other indications of options for
modern Western society. The concept of bio-power is closely related to the technology of power. Against
this active and reactive background, Michel Foucault‘s option to insert the term inside security devices is
not at all surprising. An analytical overview could not omit the typical marks of this stake: the security
space, the problem of handling the random aspect, the normalization form specific to security and
security-population technical correlation. They establish in Foucault's key that when sovereignty
capitalizes a territory, the major problem is the location of government. The discipline orders space
architecturally through hierarchical and functional distribution of the elements and security has the role to
arrange the environment – as notion dependent on the regularized series within a multivalent and
transformable frame. Moreover, setting (conveniently) bio-power between the natural and artificial
dimensions, or between the technical and mechanical ones, this study will reaffirm that Foucault‘s
discourse is a discourse about power in the hypostasis of be behaviour wizard, and of reorganizer of the
useful space – effects returning in force as diagnosis and characteristics of contemporary world.
Key words: Biopower, Biopolitics, Michel Foucault, Naturalness vs. Artificiality, Technique and
Mechanics of Power
Bio-power – between naturalness and
artificiality
Bio-power is considered a crazy term used
for the first time by Foucault in 1976, in its
overall hypostasis of the mechanisms
constituting the fundamental biological features
which, by transplant within political strategy
(the general strategy of power), holds different
indications of option for modern Western
society. (Foucault 2009, 11) Bio-technological
power remains closely linked to power. Against
this (re)active background, there is no wonder
that the option of philosopher Michel Foucault is
to insert the term within the security devices, as
an analytical over flight that does not dismiss the
typical marks of this stake: security space, the
problem of handling the random element, the
form of normalization specific to security and
the technical correlation security-population.
This aspect constitutes evidence for the fact that,
in Foucault's key, when sovereignty capitalizes a
territory, raises the major problem of the
location of government, and the discipline
articulates the space through the hierarchical and
functional distribution of the elements, security
has the role to arrange and prepare the
environment – a notion dependent on the
regularized series in a multivalent and
transformable frame.
In an attempt to clarify the terminology
and operationally settle terms in the pigeon holes
of bio-political analysis, the environment
represents the space where series of random
elements are running, by the remote Newtonian
action of a body on another body. Translated
into Lamarck's language, the climate, the place
and the environment are but circumstances,
mechanistic influences, penetrating forces
(Foucault 2009, 30). Within this open-circuit,
the population (a multiplicity of individuals who
are deeply-essential and biologically related to
the materiality within which they exist) produces
events interfering with the quasi-natural ones.
The eruption of the naturalness of the human
154
species in the artificial environment of the
politics remains the strong foundation of biopolitics and bio-power.
If, in a functional scheme, the city relates
sovereignty to land, the eighteenth-century
sources confirm the transformation of sovereign
in an architect of the disciplined space, a kind of
a ordering agent of the environment where there
is no question of setting limits / fronts or of
determining locations but, in a structuring key,
the imperative of circulation comes first
(Foucault 2009, 33). City-shortage-epidemic
becomes a triad equivalent to street-wheatcontagion, a balance clearly united by the city
phenomenon: the problem of wheat / shortages –
city-market – place of the rebellion; the problem
of contagion/epidermal diseases- city- the
source for the outbreak of diseases - place of
odours and of death, accounting for the
characteristics of the city-security mechanism.
The three problems (inter) relate to that of
movement (a philosophical question retrieved
since Machiavelli) as safety of territory having
at disposal (as branching) the processes called
physical by the physiocrats (natural / elements
of reality), in fact means of imposing arbitrary
limits, thus reducing governance to the
necessary and sufficient action of the governing
forces (Foucault 2009, 63).
M. Foucault intended to depart from the
issue of the opacity of the legalistic voluntarism
of the sovereign and held the opinion that
population is a phenomenon related to
naturalness. Translated into the language of the
physiocrats and economists, this naturalness
(characteristic to the population) is accessible to
the agents and processing techniques, through an
approach of penetrability. The idea of public
management of the population starting from the
naturalness of desire (1) and the spontaneous
producing of the collective interest (opposed to
the old ethical and legal conception f governance
and exercise of sovereignty) is to claim the
overthrow of the assertion from Rousseau, who
noted the dependence of the naturalness of the
population on regular phenomena. This way we
can interpret also the manner in which political
community (universal and unique) becomes (in
the context of classical republicanism)
(re)ordered by the historical arbitrary, following
the path of the philosophical-utopian project, on
the line of Rousseau and/or Fichte, of the
process of naturalization. Only in this context
we can understand the failure of classical
republicanism (re)placed between the landmarks
of modernism – (re)defined by/through
capitalism and territorial state – this resulting in
a split of the civic and equal community, and,
bio-politically, the nation becomes matter, and
state, form.
Harmonizing the theories of Palazzo,
Chemnitz or Naudé, Foucault (2009, 214)
discussed the idea of a republic to mean domain,
territory, jurisdiction environment (laws, rules,
habits), set of states (individuals who are
defined by their status) and the stability of the
republican principles. For Palazzo, the ‗reason
of state‘ is the rule (‗art‘) that provides the
means to achieve integrity, peace or the peace of
republic. Such a theory betrays the canon
defining the raison d'etat as a political point of
view to which any decision or action relate in a
republic , to arrive by happy and prompt means
(not ends) to summum finem salus / incrementum
Republicae (2). According to Chemnitz, the
‗state reason‘ has to order, not following the
laws, but by accommodating them to the current
status of the republic.
Seen as an unpleasant term (Foucault
2009, 101), governance relies precisely on the
specificity of a certain type of power. In the
footsteps of R. Castle (1976), Foucault placed
(1) Translated in the language of Samuel Pufendorf,
the ‗fix rule‘, which is opposed to the diversity of
inclinations and desires, is the only one able to
entertain a voluntarism vision. Considering
socialitas – the learning of utility, for Pufendorf,
in a mixture of Aristotle‘s scholastic and critical
Kantianism, the ‗equality‘ has to be deducted from
the natural obligation to practice the rules of
sociability. In a different register (Kantian,
obviously!) this concerns the admitting of ‗general
harmony‘ between what the moral world requires
and what can be produced by the political world.
There must be, as a consequence, a foundation for
the unity of the ‗supra-sensible‘, found at the basis
of human nature, with the ‗practical content‘ of the
concept of liberty. The right and the duty of the
citizen to preserve his life, to dispose of ‗self-
defence‘, the relationship of each with his or her
own self becomes ‗quota-part‘ of a mental
construction (Samuel Pufendorf, On the Duty of
Man and Citizen according to Natural Law,
Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1991).
(2) In this sense, Foucault (in Securitate, teritoriu,
populaţie, [Security, Territory, Population],
Romanian translation, Editura Idea Design &
Print, Cluj, 2009, pp.214-225) appeals to the texts
of Palazzo (Discorso del governo e della ragion
vera di Stato, Napoli, 1604), Chemnitz (Interets
des Princes d'Allemagne, 1647) and Naudé
(Considérations politiques sur les coups d' Etat,
1667).
155
the argument in the shade the notion of
institution to replace the overall view of the
technology power, as the institution is becoming
conceptually unsatisfactory given the dangers
posed by the concomitant internalization of the
individual, the community and the rules that
govern them. Key provision remains the power
imbalance through the dispositions of power,
networks, trends, and relays, as well as points of
support or potential differences.
Deinstitutionalising or defective power
relations can work to accomplish their
genealogy inventory by lineage (and not
genesis), by management, and by techniques
with operational value in multiple processes.
Unstable, the technologies power are immobile,
reaching overall effects also possible by local
attacks, lateral or diagonal, with general
economy as a global stake.
According to Foucault, ‗as if examining
the disease status and the privileges of medical
science in the modern world, we also have here
to get behind the hospital and medical
institutions to try to find again the procedures
for taking into general care life and disease in
the West, 'biopolitics'‗ (Foucault 2009,106, our
transl.).
Resumption constantly the idea of
pastoral power remains at Foucault an approach
designed to re-discuss the status of power that is
exercised on a multiplicity/territory and leads to
an end, serving as an intermediary aim in a
hypostasis of finalised power, and which is at
the same time targeting all equally. The pastoral
(an equivalent for parochial power system)
sustains the functional scheme of governance,
through the diagonal action (law-salvationtruth), by the specific creation of the subject – a
decisive moment in the history of power in
Western societies. The theme of eschatology,
Scripture, mysticism, community and asceticism
become counter-conducts of Christianity, border
elements in Foucault's view, found again in the
permanent use of tactical details relevant in antipastoral combat to the extent that marginally;
they are also part of the general horizon of
Christianity. The perspective of power recovers
the very difficult relationship of elements that
are external to each other. To run the world (in a
pastoral manner), would (co)imply clearly that
the world is subject to an economy of
submission (and salvation, too, an economy of
the open book, with ciphers ready to be
decoded).
At first analytical attempt, the nature –
translated by principia naturae –appears
separated from the topic of governance,
tolerating (only) the rule of reason. For Botero
(Foucault 2009, 201), the state exerts a firm
dominance over the population beyond the
exercise of the territorial state or province or
kingdom, on this population the state reason
being the knowledge of the proper means to
establish and then maintain and increase such a
rule. In terms of method, principia naturae and
ratio status are benchmarks of the sciences and
techniques available to modern Western man.
According to P. Veyne (1995) in
establishing an objective relationship between
governors and governed, the fore is taken by
energetism (an understanding of individual
activism in terms of energy) as a gift made by
the individual to the community. This is an
indication for the many consequential motives of
what Foucault named the model of a historical
practice hostile to the causal type explanation
and concerned with the individualisation of the
event. The real challenge of the new
governmental rationality stays in keeping the
dynamic development of the diplomatic and
military forces and police devices – elements of
the security mechanism.
Beyond the profile of the artificial
construct of governance and reason of state that
seems to render everything else artificial,
Foucault distinguishes between the naturalness
of the mechanisms (as opposed to political
artificiality of the reason of state and police) and
the naturalness specific to human relations.
Society as naturalness represents a sort of
conceptual launching platform for the notion of
civil society – government thinking mechanism,
and necessary corollary of the state. The state
manages society, including the civil society
alternative – a fundamental shift from the
primacy of reason of state, of the rationality of
police who continues to be interested
exclusively by the individual perceived as a
collection of subjects.
The new government and the new horizon
of social naturalness justify an external
scientific knowledge, essential for good
governance. In this (re)ordered context the
population is a reality both specific and relative
(for salaries, for job opportunities or for prices).
Especially the regulation of territory and
subjects sets in motion several mechanisms
related to the economy or to the population
management, with the role to increase state
forces and a device or a number of tools to
prevent or suppress disorder, irregularity,
illegality or delinquency.
156
According to the attempt of Michel
Senellart to position the lecture of Michel
Foucault within the bio-power issues (as power
over life, a capital mutation in the history of
human society), bio-politics has an anatomical
reference to political body (1). This is a
referential attribute concerning the development
of power over life, a relationship intermediated
by the transition from or to the machine body
(this profile is marked by the raising, and the
increasing of skills and forces of extortion,
which are the procedures of power) toward the
body – species, as support of biological
processes.
Subsumed to the whole series of
interventions and regulating (bio-political)
controls of the population, these passages
actually organise effectively the power control,
held over life itself, through the body disciplines
and the effects translated by the adjustments of
population. ‗What would remain to be studied,
therefore, is the manner in which the specific
problems of life and population were formulated
within a technology of governance that has not
always been liberal, but that has never ceased to
be haunted by the problem of liberalism since
the end eighteenth century until today‘ (Foucault
2009, 312, our translation).
The management of bio-sociological
processes of masses goes beyond the frame of
the limited institutions (school, hospital,
barracks, and workshop) and (co)involves the
state apparatuses, complex organs of
coordination and centralisation by the biocontrolling action of the state. Foucault‘s
examination of governance does not imprint a
gap within the process of theorisation, but it
(co)involves bio-power, the concept of
government replacing that power by sliding, as a
kind of the extension of a new object – the state.
In light of this change of view, population
(re)gains the place of emergence, either by
diverting police technology, or by a direct
correlation with the birth of economic reflection,
and by liberalism as specific form of rationality
of bio-political control devices. Transposed into
the language of the new government rationality,
liberalism (as a general framework and a
condition of intelligibility for bio-politics)
represents the most effective care for the act of
governing less, in accordance to the naturalness
of phenomena.
Gabriela Creţu (2004) noticed precisely
the conceptual innovation of the double pouvoirsavoir (ulterior to Kehre), due to movement of
the object of research from the training systems
to the speeches toward their origin, from the
‗separation and description of types of speech‘
to the ‗relation between these grand types of
speeches [...] and the historical, economic and
political conditions of their occurrence‘. The
study of Foucault‘s genealogy would concisely
presuppose a ‗pragmatic analysis of the
formation of modern subject in some of its
aspects: normalisation, sexualisation, work, etc.‘
The interrogation aiming at the identification of models where the development of the
abilities of the individual are separated from the
intensification of power relations (in the context
of the Enlightenment enunciating and
denouncing the privileged status of the
individual) is answered at Foucault by an ethical
spectrum (of the categorical imperative of
formulations) and by a moral of the good will of
a subject (self) configured and opposed to the
active power structures. This (apparently)
double answer takes into account the fact that
we cannot have access to power in its general
dimensions and that limited by the historical
requirements, the critical approach is determined
historically, too, contingent and never complete.
(1) Integrated in the ‗polymorph techniques of power‘,
the will to know serves as denouncing support and
instrument for the perversity of power, by the
organisation of a counter-discourse. This manner
of politically thinking parts of the world to
subject them to political theories, triggers and
sustains the reticent attitude vis-à-vis the ‗fight
against any form of power‘, a fight that, according
to Foucault, is on the one hand generalised, and
on the other commendable. The perfect neurotic is
surrounded by power relations; the zoonpolitikon
of Aristotle is re-described by Foucault in the
hypostasis of political animal whose life stays
under the sign of uncertainty. Asking what are
the schools, colleges, workshops, etc., the
discourse of the History of Sexuality offers as
answers the referential of ‗diverse and numerous
techniques meant to subject the body and control
the populations‘. Foucault's approach (self)
denounces the ‗analytical‘ status, especially by
that appeal to the counter attack against the device
of sexuality, and in fact, against the power.
Technical and Mechanical Bio-power
Relating bio-politics and the discussion of
bio-power within these either positive or
negative systems of thought of Lévi-Strauss,
Foucault's approach is deliberately distanced
from structuralism (structuralism is but a
method of analysis). This particular approach
reviewed the stages of power as transition from
monarchy (political system in which power was
157
exercised by someone who had acquired power
hereditary) – to government‘s knowledge
(knowledge of economic, social, and
demographic processes) – and to the hospital
model (the groups have therapeutic power as, a
function of adaptation by appeal to social
orthopaedics and to medical therapy as a form of
repression). The analysis seems to faithfully
reproduce the model of interest on the
philosophical and journalistic line of Nietzsche
(beyond the obsession with timeliness), as (self)
definition with the daring stake of imposing
radical journalism as core philosophical
enterprise (Foucault 2005).
Fixing as hypothesis the privileged types
of punishment, Foucault distinguished between
societies of banishment (from the Greek
society), and societies of redemption (as in the
German society), societies of marking (the
Western societies from the late Middle Ages),
and societies of imprisonment (the current
societies). This classification is an excuse to
configure the radical politics of the prison,
beyond its ‗ideological‘ genesis.
The modifications suffered by the concrete
and conceptual prison, by the assault of the
history of bodies (of the unmarked body and of
medicine as a science of the normality of body)
consider the reconversion of penalty (in a history
of relations between political power and bodies)
into a physical power. A new optic joint with a
new mechanics are based on the existence of an
organ of constant and generalised supervision
instilling a discipline of life or time or energies.
Foucault's power games are trends of
character or propensities toward obsessive
neurosis (Foucault 2005, 31). These are small,
singular, and marginal power plays (in a
fashionable term today, soft power plays). They
are integrated into the fabric of daily life and
into the reality of the discourse of tragedy
(power games around madness, medicine,
illness, sick body, around the penalty and/or
imprisonment). This view is based on the fact
that beyond the monopoly of the revolution
[with all the side effects of collateral despotism,
destabilization – endless, apparently – of the
mechanisms of power (which do not capitalise
reformism)], both capitalist
or industrial
societies, and the modern forms of State which
accompanied
and supported them needed
individualised procedures and mechanisms of
religious shepherding.
Beyond the disputes of vocabulary (for
instance, Machiavelli vs. Anti-Machiavelli, or
Governance vs. government), and placing the
economy within the exercise of power (on the
filiations of ideas Rousseau, where economy
means smart family government, Quesnay,
where economic governance implies good
governance or Guillaume de La Perrière, who
saw government as right arrangement of things,
etc.), power is organized, according to Foucault,
right at the core of governance. If the
instruments of sovereignty derive themselves
from sovereignty itself, the aim of governance is
(by the appeal to different tactics) perfection,
maximising and enhancing processes which it
conducts (Foucault 2005, 64).
Unlocking the art of ruling from the rigid
frame of sovereignty and from the limited frame
of the idea of economy recovers the idea of
population as definitive removal of the family
model and refocusing economy on other levels.
The concept of governmental capacity is
accepted simultaneously by Foucault as: a set
(consisting of institutions, procedures, analyses,
reflections, calculations and tactics that allow
the exercise of this form power that targets – the
population, the major form of knowledge –
political economy and as a technical tool – the
security devices), trend, line of force,
sovereignty or discipline (by the development of
whole number of specific governance devices)
and/or process/outcome by which the
administrative state is rendered governmental
(Foucault 2005, 71).
Considering power as self-report of
techniques, Foucault related it to the precept
epimeleisthai sautou (1), designating ‗taking care
of oneself‘, ‗to be concerned with oneself‘, a
principle of the city, an essential rule of social personal conduct, brand of active political and
erotic states. Problematically integrated within
the multiple relationships between the care of
oneself and political activity, self care and
pedagogy, self care and self knowing, the
concept of epimeleisthai sautou is undertaken by
Foucault exactly in its substitution version that
Plato set between the pedagogical model and
medical model, with all that was implied by the
reinvestment of the body with decisive
attributions (2).
(1) Epimeleisthai means a real activity and not just an
attitude; on the contrary, it describes the care for
goods and one‘s own health.
(2) Herbert Marcuse, developing the Freudian theory
of ‗repression‘ used and reused also by Serge
Moscovici, considered that any form of ‗social,
political and cultural constraint‘ constitutes de
facto ‗the premise of progress‘. The capacity of
man to ‗consciously alter reality‘, in conformity
158
The theme rules the philosophical
preoccupations of immediate consequence.
Starting from the Hegelian concept of being, E.
Lévinas in Otherwise than Being: or beyond the
Essence (2006) relates inextricably this concept
to the concept of essence, a notion implying both
the game with being and with nothingness as
being is not compelled to develop by detour his
immediate realm. Placing the subject outside,
within a different manner of being, Lévinas
invests it with the destiny to evaluate the
necessary terrain between truth and ideology.
The difference between me and another
presupposes the non-indifference toward the
other. Especially beyond the essence is where
Lévinas situates the entire history of the West,
wearing at its margins the trace of History astray
from its meaning, in a noble stoicism of
resignation in front of Logos.
In conclusion, within the field of biopower, by a connection of the exception to the
legal and natural or biological state, the systems
of power or of knowledge rethink common
phenomena in their irregularity, denouncing the
analysis of the historic-political categories of the
effects of power, from the instance that produces
these effects. The mechanisms that require, at
the end of the nineteenth century, the defence of
society (final point for Foucault‘s research),
follow the path of traditional legal procedures of
repentance and of the system of knowledge and
power of normalisation.
For Czobor Mihaela Lupp (2000), starting
from Foucault's assault on modernity (not an
attack that submits and not a critical one, or
seeking alternative
definitions
of
the
Enlightenment and investigative, for the
purposes of the mechanisms that maintain a
possible answer given for the difficulties of
modernity), modern reason is oppressive,
reductive, coercive, neither emancipation, nor
progressive advancement, in the context in
which modern society still remains marked by
disciplinary links to the detriment of the
contractual ones.
The same double theoretical approach can
be seen in a perspective distancing Foucault
from the liberal doctrine (in his conception of
society and political power, by reaffirming the
dispersion, and micro-contextual infiltration of
power within the social field) and the Marxist
one (conflict is local, informal, infiltrated in the
arteries of social existence).
Foucault‘s response may be that human
agents are either passive and ‗manufactured‘ or
active (dominated by the logic of power
relations), concerning the distinction between
domination (solidification of power, limiting the
space of resistance) and power. Operating with
the rationality, the end and the effects (which do
not coincide with purpose), with the actual use
or with the strategic configurations, Foucault
analyses political institutions and the relations
among them, actually retracing the firm lines of
separation between institutions and practices
(the autonomous place of connection for the
rules imposed and the rationales offered).
With the hypothesis implied by the
interrogation ‗Why is Foucault's discourse one
of power?‘, and considering that in the case of
power relations we must talk about agonist
states, a possible answer offered for Mihaela
Czobor Lupp, should consider Foucault's
position inside the recessive relation of
behaviour (a stable mechanism, a substitute for
fight, a report of confrontation) and conduct (act
of ruling, governing, in conformity with some
coercion mechanisms). In order to maintain its
advantage and in its hypostasis of power
exercise and dominant term, power involves the
management behaviours.
Apart from organizing the limits and the
extremes, power and discipline coexist,
redirecting individualized type of power toward
salvation from mundane items (health-hygiene,
welfare, security, protection), or body (since
body subjected is body useful). Organizing the
useful space, the discipline of power establishes
the place, the distance, the rank of the bodies in
the distribution, as well as their circulation in a
network of power relations (Foucault 1997).
References
Castel 1976
Creţu 2004
Derrida
1999
with ‗what is useful‘, seems to promise the gradual
removal of the external barriers found in the way
of his ‗satisfaction‘.
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Castel, R., L’Ordre psychiatrique, L’âge d’or de l’aliénisme, Paris, Minuit, 1976.
Creţu, Gabriela, Discursul lui
Foucault, O pragmatică a metadiscursului (Foucault's. Discourse. A Pragmatic of the
Metadiscourse), Jassy, Cronica
Derrida, Jacques, Despre ospitalitate (On Hospitality), Jassy,
Polirom Publishing House,
1999.
Frank 1992
Foucault
1997
Foucault
2001
Foucault
2005
Foucault
2009
Habermas
2000
Kelly 1994
Frank, M., ―On Foucault's Concept of Discourse‖, in T.J.
Armstrong (ed.), Michel Foucault Philosopher, New York,
Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992.
Foucault, Michel, A supraveghea şi a pedepsi. Naşterea
închisorii
(Discipline
and
Punishment: The Birth of the
Prison), Bucharest, Humanitas
Foucault, Michel, Anormalii
(Abnormal Lectures at the
College de France, 1974-1975),
Bucharest, Univers Publishing
House, 2001.
Foucault, Michel, Lumea e un
mare azil. Studii despre putere
(The world is a large Asylum.
Studies on Power), Cluj, Idea
Design&Print
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Foucault, Michel, Securitate,
teritoriu, populaţie (Security,
Territory, Population), Cluj,
Idea Design & Print Publishing
House, 2009.
Habermas, Jürgen, Discursul
filosofic
al
modernităţii
(The Philosophical Discourse
of Modernity), Bucharest, All
Kelly, Michael, Critique and
Power: Recasting the Foucault/
Habermas Debate, Cambridge,
Massachusetts
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Lévinas
2006
Lupp 2000
Manolache,
Şerban
2010
Marietti
1985
Nancy 2005
Veyne 1995
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Technology, 1994.
Lévinas, Emmanuel, Altfel
decât a fi sau dincolo de esenţă
(Otherwise
Than
Being:
Or Beyond Essence), Bucharest, Humanitas Publishing
House, 2006.
Lupp
Czobor
Mihaela,
―Foucault,
critic
al
modernităţii‖
(Foucault's
Critique of Modernity), in
Laurenţiu Ştefan Scalat (ed.),
Dicţionar de scrieri politice
fundamentale (Dictionary of
Fundamental
Political
Writings), Bucharest, Humanitas Publishing House, 2000.
Manolache Viorella, Henrieta
Anişoara Şerban, Cartografierea marginalităţii (Mapping
Marginality), Bucharest, The
Institute of Political Science
and International Relations
Marietti A. K., M. Foucault.
Archéologie et Généalogie,
Paris,
Librairie
Générale
Francaise, 1985.
Nancy, Jean-Luc, Comunitatea
absentă (The Inoperative Community), Cluj, Ideea Design&
Print Publishing House, 2005.
Veyne, Pierre, Le Pain et la
Cirque. Sociologie historique
d’un pluralisme politique,
Paris, Point Histoire, 1995.
Miniature Memories. ‘Small Patrimonies’ in Romanian PostCommunist Memoirs
Andi MIHALACHE
Researcher II, PhD, Institute of History, Iaşi, Romania
E-mail: andiadx@yahoo.com
Abstract. This article assumes that we are less affixed to objects than we are to the place that
these objects occupy for a long time. This is the reason why we make a distinction between remembering
when they let fall objects‘ names and when they evoke interiors as a reason. In the author of an
autobiography we can see either a memoirist who refuses that time goes by (and he still lives in the
beginning of his house lost in time) or one who is surrounded by objects he gathers in order to assure
himself that he will have some recollections (that he can easily anticipate already) – some prefabricated
melancholies. Each one of these takes his home to be a ‗pedestal‘ of himself. This paper is a kind of
apropos of French ‹‹petit patrimoine››. Small patrimonies‘ include items that are not part of any museum
and are not inventoried in any way. They do not have any market value, carrying only sentimental value
for their owners. They present strong identity, family, memorial and trans-generational features.
Symbolising very accurately intimacy and privacy, they do not belong to the famous mémoire des lieux
category, but are among the so-called lieux de vie: the fireplace, the window from the living room, the
favourite room wall etc. ‗Small patrimonies‘ survive over time due to those who consider that they share
a particular object.
Key words: interior decor, memory, nostalgia, bovarism, post-communism
The manufacturing of replicas of ancient
works of art, resulting into frills, began in 1739
(Haskell 1999, 125). However, at the time they
were not considered to be decorative items, but
‗evocations‘
of
Greek
masterpieces.
Paradoxically, the miniature copy became a
reminder, a kind of ‗monument‘ dedicated to the
large-scaled original. Thus, when he came to
Strasbourg in September 1830, Johann Peter
Eckermann bought an opal scent bowl
representing Napoleon‘s bust for Goethe
(Eckermann 1965, 412). Did the great scholar
have such tastes? Who knows, maybe the
Germans treated their fear of the ‗little Corsican‘
like that, by miniaturising his posterity. The
episode might have remained a simple anecdote
if we had not found similar examples in the 20th
century. For example, Doina Uricariu mentions
the popularity Soviet decorations and uniforms
had acquired in the West after the fall of the
Eastern European communism (Uricariu 2010,
48-49). Moreover, there are other cases of
various regimes or leaders, politically dead, but
still remembered on a fetishist level (1). Bad
(1)
taste can also produce culture due to the fact that
fears that are collectively defeated are later
made to appear as individual victories. Thus, the
fears are gradually transformed into medals in
the course of time. We take pride in them: it
seems that if we managed to survive them we
also managed to defeat them.
Things do not simply exist by themselves,
but to the extent to which we entrust them with a
sort of consolation mythologies. However, we
wonder: do their age, real or imagined,
automatically attract a certain type of words or is
it that memories claim some older objects as
necessary background ingredients? Are the
people from older times implicitly associated
with an old fashioned decor, ‗being posted at the
end of the Florentine table in the living room‘?
(2). The present paper attempts to be a kind of à
propos for what the French call ‗small
patrimony‘. The term is not only a metaphor, but
it is becoming a more and more well-defined
concept. Jocelyne Bonnet-Carbonell relates its
occurrence to a certain revolution that had taken
sympathy for Glasnost see chapter The Lure of
Yesterday’s Tomorrow in Guffey 2006, 133-159.
(2) This is a reference to the mother of philosopher
Gabriel Liiceanu. See Liiceanu 2008, 172.
For the manner in which the westerns turned
Soviet symbols into clothing brands out of
161
place within patrimony studies, in the sense of
the focus shift from the verb ‗to have‘ towards
‗to be‘. ‗Small patrimonies‘ include items that
are not part of any museum and are not
inventoried in any way. They do not have any
market value, carrying only sentimental value
for their owners. They present strong identity,
family, memorial and trans-generational
features. Symbolising very accurately intimacy
and privacy, they do not belong to the famous
mémoire des lieux category, but are among the
so-called lieux de vie: the fireplace, the window
from the living room, the favourite room wall
etc. (Bonnet-Carbonell 2008, 10-12). ‗Small
patrimonies‘ survive over time due to those who
consider that they share a particular object
(reconnaissance partagée) (Bonnet-Carbonell
2008, 10-12).
In a bourgeois version, china has a long
existence in time, accompanying several
generations (1). It gained true notoriety between
1810 and 1840, originating from a ‗country‘
called Biedermeier: a style that embodied a
miniature
aesthetic,
good-natured
and
fundamentally private for the middle classes,
offsetting the gigantism of the Napoleon
classicism – according to Stéphane Laurent –,
which had been particularly designed for the
public markets (Laurent 1997, 148). However,
the Biedermeier visual rhetoric did more than
promote a retractable and epigone interior
design. It responded to the noble finicality,
based on sophistication, with a bourgeois
snobbery that invested everything in sobriety.
The windows with frills were amateur before
being decorative. They imitated aristocratic
collections, the grandeur of the Old Regime
being now crouched inside a common bourgeois
living room (Laurent 1997, 148). We do not
share such interpretations that identify a
collective depressive state in the passion for
interior design, a state that would have arose
after years during which the individual had been
the political victim of history. We rather believe
in the desire to calm things down on an
individual level: while the major events hurried
time and expanded space, the ‗post-‘ periods
allowed people create microcosms accessible to
them; thus, they adhered to an imago mundi as
small, introverted and meditative as possible, the
floral decorations and china creating a fragile
surrounding, one that required the average
man‘s protection (Pety 2010, 257). Biedermeier
style creates objects that, once brought into
one‘s home, require certain types of behaviours,
generating unexpected sentimentality and
attachment (Laurent 1997, 148). We give only
one example: in 1891, being concerned with the
difficulties of moving to another home,
Alexander Odobescu confessed his worries
regarding his daughter‘s frills (2). In a similar
context, while writing to his wife in 1924,
Pallady unwittingly implied that small interior
decor items were not mere frippery before
communism. They had become identity brands,
a sort of small metonymy of the owner.
Therefore they accompanied the viewer
everywhere, making his new home more
familiar. Not surprisingly, the artist listed a few
objects to Jeanne, next to pronominal possessive
adjectives (your table, your closet, my room
etc.), and also called them by the style they
represented (surprising for an intimate
correspondence) (Empire, Louis XV): ‗...So I
brought the furniture from your bedroom in
Quai de Passy ...as well as your secrétaire, your
Rognon table, the small tea table from the
lounge, the Director and Empire chairs and other
smaller items, the panel etc... I took the Louis
the 15th commode, an armchair, the dresser that
was in my room to my studio... and I sold the
green sofa and chairs from the lounge, the
armchair, the table and your mirror wardrobe for
2,200 francs to an antiquarian on rue Franklin, in
order to pay taxes and the income tax, which
amounted to 3000 francs for the years 21, 22, 23
(and, especially, not to look at them all the time
and be tempted to spend money for their
restoration). The furniture (buffet) near the
entrance was left on the seventh floor, waiting
for a buyer, unless you wish to keep it? – I put
the lingerie in two chests, all the frills, letters,
and other objects that belong to you, which I
wanted to send to Bucharest, it would have cost
six hundred francs, because it is all very heavy
and the price is 4 francs per kilo ... Should I
decide to send them anyway!? (etc.)‘ (Pallady
scriind 2009, 100). The frills had their place
within the large understanding of ‗good taste‘,
although Pallady was already considering the
purchase of these miniatures on large scale
(1) Due to the devotion towards the items which had
gained a temporal over-value, the same object
crossecd the histories of severeal families or
generations. Caietele Herminei [Hermina‘s
Notebooks] are one example, edited by Rodica
Ţabic and Adriana Popescu (2010, p. 44).
(2) The reference to the ‗thousands of frills from
Ioana‘s room‘ is found the letter which the
historian sent to Saşa Odobescu on the 26th of
October 1891. See Odobescu 1992, 524.
162
consumption level. His diary from 1941
represents additional proof, carelessly written,
full of corrections, written on a notebook for
women, and, as editor Dana Crişan noted,
printed in the Parisian magazine ‗Printemps‘ in
1936! At the bottom of a page covered with
brief remarks and an outline of a nude, one can
read this note: ‗Le Printemps possède aussi un
Rayon d‘Antiquités, où vous trouverez des
meubles et des bibelots anciens de tous les
styles‘ (Pallady scriind 2009, 153, 183). The
post did not imply that the prices were
affordable. It was their inaccessibility that
awoke the desire to have – their purchase would
have made the buyer ‗something else‘. However,
these tendencies became seriously threatened by
the ‗bully‘ regimes, which despised ‗retrograde
trifles‘ and outmoded, sickly, decrepit ‗junk‘. In
fact, one of the memories regarding the city of
Cluj before 1940 suggests, besides the
indubitable idea of refinement, a hard to hide
rotten feature. More specifically, while
portraying the old and squandering owner
Karola Vikol, Ion Negoiţescu suggests the fact
that her world was falling apart by itself,
somehow deserving its fate: ‗... I was going to
visit her again, before the Vienna arbitration,
close to the time of her finale ruin, in her
beautiful apartment, with superb Biedermeier
furniture, huge Chinese vases, priceless
figurines, chandeliers crammed with crystal, but
without any carpets on the floor, as they had
already been sold‘ (Negoiţescu 2009, 51). Frills
do not merely revive an interior for Negoiţescu,
but setup its twilight. The objects from his
memories do not restore anything; they are only
used to stage the failure of a society that seems
to have no purpose. Thus, the sets from ‗The
Sentinel of The Dragons‘ are not relics, but
anchor-objects. However, it is possible that
Negoiţescu was deceived by outdated
perceptions, shaped after 1945, when, in the
absence of any alternative, people struggled to
believe that there was no other way and that the
older elites had nothing more to offer. Or maybe
these additional spaces dressed with curtains are
accompanied by the smell of mothballs only
because of literary conformism: in order not to
be suspected of nostalgia and because it was
safer to mock everything that seemed old.
However, a positive impression persists, a
sensation of languish, drawing the visitor out of
the grey daily routines, even during the 80s. The
smell of frowsy things annoys at the first
contact, and then the sense of smell leaves room
for the visual sense to enjoy the small
decorations and stills, specifically designed for
discrete withdrawals from the social time.
Although it is difficult to demonstrate, the
evolution of such properties ultimately overlaps
the history of their occupants, together sliding
across different political regimes, otherwise
strong enough to leave traces within the
domestic design: ‗The decor that I am describing
has remained the same, from my first memories
until late in life‘, Ion Vianu states. ‗In fact, my
parents‘ death, the marriages – mine and my
sister‘s –, the children had to occur for the
rooms to change their purpose, some of the
walls to fall and others to be risen, modifying
the house‘s blueprints. [...] In the course of time
the owners got rid of the cubist furniture, with
smooth surfaces and asymmetries, and shifted
towards a more classic style. The period was
partially the cause for this fact, as the local
production was rarefied by the revolution;
antique pieces, however, were cheap. It was then
when more consistent objects entered the house,
Russian adorned silvery: ample fruit trays, tea
sets, while the poor modern electric samovar
(which was never used, because in our house we
honoured coffee, not tea), always sitting on a
wheeled table that was never moved,
disappeared. Only the massive living room
remained unchanged, with the bed table and
heavy buffet that had three separate
compartments, always locked by mother – then
when I grew up, they were left unlocked –
leaving sugar and sweets handy, as the myth of
the ‗stealing servants‘ was fading in socialism,
other more efficient terrorists substituting them.
Biedermeier
furniture
(bedside
tables,
secrétaires, chests) were now preferred and
filled the house. Also other, more prestigious,
paintings appeared; I mention a work by
Petraşcu, a still image with a kettle, shading a
bleak gleam from its brass‘ (Vianu 2010, 28). A
simple description of the discount antiques
mentioned by Ion Vianu is to be found in the
second volume of memoirs by Michael
Cantuniari: ‗...let me say something about
bookstores in the centre: like I said before,
during the second half of the 50‘s the gradually
fading local bourgeois class was allowed to
present and sell high quality art objects – small
furniture pieces, paintings, carpets, statues and
statuettes, even Damascene antique guns –, at
very low prices‘ (Cantuniari 2011, 13).
Regardless who their owners would have been,
the objects did not deserve the fate of the people.
Returning home after the fall of Ceauşescu, Ion
Vianu remembered his thoughts when he was
163
about to leave communist Romania: ‗It seemed
monstrous to leave behind all the objects imbued
with the past, everything that actually
represented me. I remembered of my mother‘s
death when I looked at her frills on the
Biedermeier chest and I became so sad knowing
that those objects did not have an owner
anymore. I too was going to leave them without
a master with my departure. Surely, they would
survive [...]. But the force holding them together
– our presence there – would not. Such a
departure meant death‘ (Vianu 2009, 55). These
memoirs volumes ‗quote‘ various objects that
easily comply with the pattern we described. No
matter the story we push them into, antiques
rather confirm than object. Not incidentally,
Gabriel Liiceanu speaks of objects with a welldefined ‗job description‘. He further illustrates
them by describing his grandfather‘s armchair.
‗The truth is that, starting from a certain age, we
begin to draw back, states the philosopher;
gradually shortening, our life time requires to be
enriched with the lives of those who have
preceded us. [...] You search your grandparents
and you regret that, ignoring this need which
was going to arise, you didn‘t know how to
question your parents about their own parents.
By not doing so, you feel like you completely
lost the possible extension of your life time into
the past. [...] For instance, I never got the chance
to meet my maternal grandfather: I was the
youngest of his eleven grandchildren's. [...] The
fact is that, looking back to the unknown time of
my lives, I discovered this grandfather. I
managed to save some objects that go back to
his time from the house of my cousin Adrian
from Caracal, abandoned last year after a
century, left in decay and death – a strange
couch, wearing upside a console with intarsia,
which once stood in the lobby of the mansion
from Cezieni, built by my grandfather at the turn
of the century, then a guerdon and a Bierdemeier
chair, which I now use for my work desk. A
century later everything is in perfect condition.
And the chair I now use when I sit at my desk
and write gives me strength. Every day when I
sit down to work and lay against the rounded
backrest of the seat on which he sat, I feel
inhabited by a powerful, draped and humorous
being. I feel very good‘ (Liiceanu 2008, 149151). When searching the lives, images or
objects of our grandparents for some symptoms
of our coming into the world, we discover a
small dynasty of owners of one thing, inherited
from generation to generation, or, as Liiceanu‘s
case, the object is sought and repossessed, as if
the young man would adjudicate a character
feature from his grandparent through that chair.
We are therefore interested in historicised
objects that play different roles, according to the
times. For behind their apparent immobility,
they hide genealogies, tragedies, tastes and trend
changes. And unlike mere autobiographies, the
story of the self uses the close ones as ‗stepping
stones‘, transforming their acquaintance into a
subchapter of their life. This is how Gabriel
Liiceanu proceeds as well, feeding on his regret
for the people who have ‗built‘ him, but who
were forced to separate from him.
Otherwise, one of the starting points of the
present research lies in the surprise of finding a
quick reference to the ‗bourgeois‘ frills in a
book on Marxism-Leninism, anti-fascism and
five-year plans. We refer to Gheorghe Gaston
Marin's memoirs, a abstemious book, which
could not have been suspected of too much
sentimentalism; yet, Dej‘s rigid dignitary reveals
information about his parents, who were Jews
from Transylvania under Horthy: shortly before
they were sent to Auschwitz they were trying to
protect some objects that they felt that were
summarising their life in those moments. We
were struck by the fact that these people,
although being aware of what was going to
happen to them, spent their last normal life
hours trying to shelter their symbols of domestic
and emotional stability. Back in Cluj, the former
fighter in the French Resistance was ‗searched
by an old friend of my father, chief engineer of
the Haţeg-Petroşani railways, Maros, who
endangered his and his wife‘s freedom by hiding
some objects my parents had given them the
days before the tragedy knocked at their door.
Maros family gave me the Rosenthal porcelain
set, the crystal glasses, the table silverware,
tablecloths with napkins, carpets and
embroidery, the beautiful Meissen porcelain
figurines and other valuables pieces and
memories acquired by my parents, who loved
beauty during their life of labour‘ (Gaston Marin
2000, 88).
We deal with nostalgia that we repudiate
and nostalgia that we learn to live with.
However, the manner in which we put them into
words is sometimes fashionable, as we receive
stereotype stories without knowing it, put into
circulation for advertising reasons. Today the
recent past adopts more and more disparate
faces, ending among elusive recollections and
joyful omissions. It is difficult to familiarise
ourselves with our new memories under the
avalanche of memoirs from Humanitas and
164
Polirom publishing houses. There are people
who narrate laconically, as if they are trying to
get rid of their own words, while others, on the
contrary, display a lush vocabulary, giving the
impression that they have lived in that past that
they refer to more than they did in the reality of
their own lives. The first category is composed
of those who were formed after 1945, while the
latter includes the representatives of the
‗exploiting classes‘. Moreover, in postcommunism the foster ‗unhealthy‘ relatives are
re-affiliated in order to fill the lives of those who
were persecuted because of them. In this
context, the frills belonging to the grandparents
are mentioned as if their purchase would have
been the merit of the grandchildren.
Experiencing a shortage of biography, the
successors claim successful ancestors, from
which they derive a prestige now impossible to
obtain on their own. The memoirists with
‗bourgeois‘ biographies present, thus, a painterly
style, frilling their story, and speaking in an
annoying manner for us about the ‗life of
Christmas gifts‘, to quote Maruca Cantacuzino
(1). She is in self-delight imagining her ancestors
eating only from ‗Sèvres porcelain dishes when
Saxony ones were not available‘ (CantacuzinoEnescu 2005, 89); however, forcing us to note
that these luxury items were frequently used
while the cheap plates and cups ‗sets‘ were
treated very preciously. It seems clear that
former elite representatives are people from
times we cannot easily relate to. We have not
crossed at all and did not share any road. Also
we do not feel that we have much in common
with a phrase like ‗large porcelain cups with
blue flowery immersed us in a pleasant mood
and gave us unshakeable confidence in beings
and life‘ (Cantacuzino-Enescu 2005, 31). From a
retrospective point of view, trinkets claim pasts
that we would otherwise consider imaginary (not
fictional) for a simple reason: when the owners
benefited from the presence of these objects they
did not especially sought them and it did not
defined their identity. However, not all of their
mentions are cheesy and playful. For example,
Adrian Marino definitely placed them in a
childhood illo tempore, and of the
contemporaries, at the same time. There is a
reason why we recall them in a somewhat
sarcastic manner, looking at them rather as
weary tools, customizing them only to be paired
with the names of two minor poets, ‗In
exchange, how cute and colourful seemed to me
the first writers from Iaşi whom I saw and
«known», somehow, in my childhood and
adolescence. I used to live next to George
Topârceanu‘s house, as I mentioned before.
Otilia Cazimir, wearing a red scarf on her head,
used a tuft made of cock feathers to dust every
morning various objects and trinkets. I think it
was 1934-1935, because one day she came to
the fence and told us: ‗Children, be quiet. Mr
Topârceanu is sick‘. He died in 1936‘ (Marino
2010, 45).
Selecting beautiful memories is an attempt
to bribe the past, to lure it on the narrator‘s side.
In her Confessions, Maria Frunzetti often
mentions Biedermeier furniture pieces, using
them as ‗heraldic‘ objects; we would do
anything for them, in order to have memories by
including them in our individual biographies,
exaggerating sometimes (Frunzetti 2001, 23, 77,
105, 126, 149). A more interesting example of
shared memory is the fact that Mary Frunzetti
and Annie Bentoiu remember the porcelain and
Art Nouveau of the Enescu family, mentioned in
Maria Cantacuzino‘s memoirs, who had been
their owner. Thus, Maruca exemplifies the
situation when the narrator is being narrated, in
his turn, by those who find themselves in his
past. In Mircea Berindei‘s memoirs, the
mentioned objects rather play the role of a ‗scar‘
than that of a ‗coat of arms‘, suggesting that the
people who gave sense to those things
disappeared. Without a compatible owner,
whom they would portray, the objects lose their
meaning, becoming waste. The Sèvres or
Meissen porcelain ‗dies‘ unless it has an owner
able to understand, to commemorate and
reconfirm its actuality. The small ‗widgets‘ from
the Venetian Firewall are signifiers partially
envisioning the lost idea of elite: their presence
in Berindei's memories would not have been that
sure, if they had not been displaced from their
original purpose and sold at the flea markets.
For this reason they are frequently reiterated in
the memoirs, in order to express the feeling of
cultural distance that separates us from the old
days. Although they survived the twentieth
century, some objects are not, however,
accessible for the present. The past keeps them
to itself. At best, they can provide details about
what their owners were or were unable to be
(1) Sanda Stolojan actually speaks of the ‗exccesses
of the old exiles, too strongly influenced by being
part of the old burgeoise‘. See Stolojan 2007, 174.
The note from the 18th of January 2001.
165
but the age we are when we recall them, ‗to my
surprise, after experiencing communism (the
persecution of the class I belonged to, being
forced to leave our homes for common
domiciles, facing proletariat, being put in jail), I
don‘t keep negative memories regarding the
terrible decade ‗50‘, wrote Sanda Stolojan. All
of my experiences from that period also contain
positive aspects: friends, love, joy, a joy that
colours the darkness of those years. I remember
of that time with a feeling that I still wonder
about. I get emotional as if the rather terrible
things that happened to me (for instance:
moving to suburbs) would not have dented some
of the light in my soul. Maybe my youth at the
time when I was dealing with all of these
experiences made me accept them in a certain
state of mind, a mixture of rebellion and
courage, both positive, its traces still surviving
in me with a touch of melancholy, like a
goodbye – the goodbye which separates us from
that lost world that we survived, young and full
of irrationally, confuse, incomprehensible hope
in an unseen force that was going to save us‘
(Stolojan 2007, 28). This is not about the regret
for the lost youth, but for the real separation
from the bourgeois world, which, indeed, took
place during the juvenile stage of their life; a
separation which they did not truly acknowledge
at that time – the ‗obsessive decade‘. There is
also a certain degree of sympathy for the
innocence of those people, poisoned in time by
certainty or scepticism. The above quoted lines
are dated June the 26th 1997, thus belong to a
more mature post-communism period, that of
the Democratic Convention, reflect a kind of
compassion for the young ‗fifty-ers‘, who did
not know what challenges awaited. They
represent a detached and indulgent self-portrait
of the memoirist Sanda Stolojan, who is now
returning to a vacant self, knowing in retrospect
what kind of events were going to mutilate her
future. While further reading the exiled author
Ion Vianu, we note that the refuse to remember
is the equivalent of the refusal to see his taking
off from Otopeni – leaving the country – as a
key moment in this regard. This is not an easy
exercise, the memory of one‘s place of birth
lying behind the answers to the question ‗who
are you?‘ However, the year 1989 changed the
binary image of the world, the motivations,
identity discourses and fears that people had
gotten attached to. The disuse of the old
landmarks determined certain disorientation, a
sort of inability to situate into the some hesitant
post-communism temporality. Furthermore, the
anymore (1). Therefore, myths are created rather
by time than people. Before 1989, when seeing
the flea market scene in Bietul Ioanide [Poor
Ioanide] – a screen adaption of George
Călinescu‘s novel – the unsuspecting audience
despised bourgeoisie and its rotten world,
banished by the new one, that of the ‗working
people‘. Watching the same film after the fall of
communism, we think of something else – the
elites destroyed by totalitarianism. Each of the
two eras is the counter-myth of the other; both
completing their profile subsequently, by
antithesis. Actually, there are some worlds that
have failed to be contemporary with their own
myth. They did not establish it during their real
existence, possessing it posthumously, after both
disappeared. However, between you and me,
would ‗little Paris‘ be so much appreciated had
it not been the victim of communist bulldozers?
‗Which exactly is the moment when what
you experienced is regarded as past?‘ asked
herself Herta Müller (Müller 2005, 137). What
exactly does memory deal with? It treats the
event as an accident, taming it by including it in
a species of redundant, familiar and controllable
facts? Is it an eternal return of the present? And
does it necessarily translate nostalgia into
kitsch? For example, Jenny Acterian‘s diary
goes until 1947, without assuring the reader that
she was aware of the inevitable transition to
communism. The period between 1944 and 1947
appears as a clear phase of transition to
totalitarianism much later, being the product of a
retrospective order of events, when a
chronological order became possible. Moreover,
our memory regularly cancels the conclusions of
similar historical contexts: in 1948 it seemed
that nothing could be worse and already we
sighed with regret for interwar Romania; in
1968 we believed that the situation was much
better than during the Soviet occupation; in the
80's we were again despaired and regretted the
summer of ‗68. Not the opinion shift is essential,
but the comparison term we choose in order to
make the judgement whether we are doing better
or worse. First we find a point in time which we
believe it represents the end of an era, and then
we deny that end and find another final point of
our own. Maybe this is where the origins of the
myth lie, as the historical myth represents a
dynamic denouement. And the complexity level
of this problem reveals itself more wider if we
consider that it is not the actual facts that matter,
(1) These are ‗mute‘ objects, living a life on their
own. See Turkle 2007, 308.
166
death of Ceauşescu makes the exiled to face a
different Romania from the one they had left
behind. Their memoirs strengthen the
impression that their return to a renewed country
immediately emaciated them. Paradoxically, the
collapse of communism causes a feeling of
being left behind, of accelerated aging. The
disappearance of that mentioned regime, which
was contemporary with his own youth and adult
life, the exiled wanders in a second-hand
historical time, in a timeless epilogue of his life,
as Sanda Stolojan suggested. The memoirs from
exile are useful because they help us distinguish
several ways to participate to a historical period,
or, as François Hartog says, some specific
temporal regimes: a) an abandoned time, that of
the Romania they had left, b) an individual time,
worn through the world, c) a time that recaptures
them from the past, that of the Romania they
found after 1989 or a time they enter again,
regardless whether they find it where it was left.
Memories populate certain past time
islands, coagulating neighbouring memoirs. Can
we deny them because history always seems
incomplete to us? Never obtaining final answers,
we either get a glimpse of ephemeral
backgrounds, which do not last for long in our
memory, or durable pasts, which come to
compose memory itself. Although the quoted
paragraphs are often introspective, we do not
intend to adopt a psychological perspective: we
rather follow the narrator‘s self-identification
with the narrated memories, regardless if these
are personal or belong to someone else. Creating
new memories – and not simply inventorying
them – occurs when our biographies invite life
stories that we have not really intersected with to
come in. We assume them à rebours, because
we can find ourselves there, by recollecting my
memories with yours into a common ‗past‘,
shared by more of us. Although memories do
not have finality, we can classify them (1) as
follows: those which we fear, those we feel
sorry for because they are dying, as they do not
have any further carriers, and those for the sake
of which we look forward for aging. Often, they
do not disappear once with the person who was
their main actor (2). Thus, we refer here to the
memories that persist due to the fact that we
regularly share them with others (3). For
example,
Constantin
Bălăceanu-Stolnici‘s
memories are accurately confirmed by Annie
Bentoiu. She considers them eloquent for the
communist atmosphere his writings recall;
however, our interest focuses upon ‗the memory
inside a memory‘, the shared family histories,
common to both: paintings and old books, china
and furniture, all of them stolen or burnt, not
even the wedding rings belonging to Stolnici‘s
parents could avoid ‗expropriation‘ (Bentoiu
2009, 161-162). However, we also encounter
gaps, especially when our co-storytellers die,
taking with them text fragments that were also
ours. Breaking this lifelong empathy gives us the
feeling that we have departed from the ‗land‘,
sailing the ocean on a paper boat. Sanda
Stolojan visited her friend, Sanda T., in the
summer of 2001, ‗surrounded by friends, but in
fact alone in the midst of her memories (brother,
son, husband, brother, sister-in-law, all of them
gone)‘ (Stolojan 2007, 186). Thus, the encounter
becomes a very rare opportunity to turn the
conversation into a two-voiced self-evocation,
each recognizing herself in the other‘s odyssey:
‗We talk about Poiana, her family‘s property,
their country house, devastated during the fifty
years period of communism. While listening, I
thought about those art collectors gathering
patrimony items forever lost... like her mother
had been, the great protector of Romanian crafts;
she created weaving workshops (embroidery,
rugs), which she held in her beloved county of
Gorj. Everything has been robbed. However,
Sanda T. takes these things with serenity. She
reminded me that my maternal ancestors, the G.
family, were related to her own. She would like
to leave the empty recovered house from Poiana
to a foundation that would arrange a ‗memorial
She then considered that his life belonged to her,
that she could have crossed it as she pleased,
without considering its various stages, thinking
about him in different ages, ignoring chronology.
(3) We have in mind the house of the French foster
vice-consul from Iaşi, Joseph Sibi, preserved in
the local memory through repeated narrative
recoveries. The reports of those who include into
their own biographies fragments from this
family‘s history and the home they had inhabited
are a form of patrimony, in English it is called
living memory. Thus, most intentions of autoinclusion a posteriori into someone‘s story are
recorded in the case of Charlotte, daughter of
Joseph Sibi, French teacher for many generations.
See Dumas 2011.
(1) It is worth mentioning that specialists distinguish
between memory and recollection, the first seems
more objective to them while the latter rather
affective. See Dassié 2010, 23.
(2) During the show ‗Back To Reason‘, broadcasted
on TVR Cultural channel in the evening of the 7 th
of May 2009, guest Roxana Dreptu referred to her
deceased husband, painter Ioan Inocenţiu Dreptu.
167
house‘, where all of the artistic and historical
remains of that past could be gathered‘ (Stolojan
2007, 186). The two bashed women were trying
to further evoke those who were gone, or to find
new affinities or common memories (Davis
1979, 31-50). In fact, many of us can not listen
to their grandparents anymore, but manage
somehow to keep in touch with them through
further sharing their recollection. Nothing
special about that, we might be tempted to say,
as many of our memories are actually adopted
backgrounds. In this sense, we also have the
support of a few old artefacts, giving us the
chance to approach a past or another, asking it to
become ours as well, at least partially. We do
not attempt psycho-analyse at all and we are not
searching for any hidden meanings, difficult to
put into words (1). We wish to document
different attitudes towards objects, people,
moments and feelings that gradually become
common property by entering a text. This is the
shortest definition of the idea of ‗small heritage‘.
We found a self-referential understanding of the
concept in the case of Ion Vianu and another
one, in the third person, preferred by Neagu
Djuvara. They both considered backgrounds
they had not experienced, asking questions that
others did not. Ion Vianu started from the idea of
reconstruction of the self, as those he wrote
about completed his life: ‗my story would not
have been possible, admits Vianu, if I would
have not allowed myself the audacity to pursue
such reconstructions. These are possible if you
got to know very well the actors of a drama you
have not witnessed. [...] ‗I‘ am actually myself,
the one who writes, with my precise identity,
recorded in documents and in the memories of
those who met me and will remember me later,
until the generations will lose sight of me‘
(Vianu 2010, 28-29, 146). More relaxed, Neagu
Djuvara sees family heritage survival as a skill
to exit the scene in beautiful manner, the art to
end without completely erasing your traces in
the world. There is a reason why he focuses on
Alexander Saint Georges, ‗a foster captain of
cavalry, passionate collector, who had left the
army to devote himself exclusively to his
passion of collecting everything he could from
our country's past. [...] He was obsessed with the
concern that, after the death of each man who
had represented a however small part of our
history, many if not all of his objects and
documents would be lost forever. So he tried his
best to save everything he could from
destruction or waste, after the disappearance of a
personality, sometimes without a certain criteria‘
(2) (Djuvara 2010, 265-266). The two narrators
return a long way back in time, into an old
present, consumed along with others; and they
want to make it compatible with the new
timeliness, completely estranged from the old
facts of their lives.
Even the most elementary certainties are
extinguished without maintenance, protection or
support in difficult times. Obviously, there is no
danger that one plus one could ever be
something else than two. However, there are
other truths, which explain the world and make
us care about it. These cannot live without our
assistance and without the conviction that the
greatest achievements of the human beings are,
unfortunately, the most fragile ones, too. This is
also where the idea of ‘small heritage‘ is
included. It does not only contain Biedermeier
furniture and Meissen figurines, but also life
stories that protect the memory these ‗dear
trifles‘ (Lucia Ofrim), from a narrative
perspective. We could not understand their
importance if we did not know that among the
first victims of the dictatorship of the proletariat
were leather-bound books (burned in a mansion
yard), Sèvres tea services (smashed against the
walls or stolen), or piano keyboards (broken
with the rifle butt or stepped upon by boots). We
believe that the world where they fitted perfectly
normal deserves a brief memento, at least.
Otherwise, all the objects we do not know any
longer what they represent will create blind
history, unable to function for us. In Paris, on
the 9th of February 1993, Sanda Stolojan
recognized this ‗indifference‘ towards what she
called in December 2001 ‗the memory of a time
which has been beheaded, assassinated in the
midst of the deadly violence of the century that
we crossed‘: ‗I entered‘, she wrote in February
1993, ‗just like every year at this time, the shop
‗Le Père Fragile‘, where they have sell-outs for
china and crystal. On a Bohemian console there
were crystal glasses: blue, green, yellow.
Exactly the same as my parents had in the living
room. Was it because of the crystal‘s texture?
The memory instantly turned into a cold
(1) The idea of extracting this subject from the area
of psychology and bringing it in that of historical
anthropology is not new, other academical circles
have also been concerned with creating an
archaeology of the artefacts that contain our own
past. See Harrison, Schofield 2010, 173).
(2)
168
Djuvara also transcribed an epigram that
circulated in 1900, regarding the amateur
collection trend practiced by Saint Georges.
presence without shadows, a dry drawing
without the emotion this kind of retrieval among
familiar objects is supposed to bring. The
images emerging from the memory were not
transfigured. Thus, it is possible that the crystal
that is probably polished for this purpose to not
be able to reflect anything else but itself, like an
empty mirror, when the internal source is off‘
(Stolojan 1999, 136) (1). The objects bring back
fleeting memories, they resemble faces you have
seen before; there are past times that were so
beautiful that now we miss them so much that
we wish we never experienced them at all (2).
Not to mention the houses which were once
synonymous with family names; in the interwar
period the name of a street was as important as
its inhabitant‘s names. Therefore, once those
buildings were demolished, the former owner
failed to relocate in a previous ego; the epilogue
of his story being left to chance (3).
Do old things attract words of a certain
nature by themselves or do memories require, as
a mandatory ingredient, some older objects as
background? In the case of Romanians, we do
not believe that we would always refer to old
sets, almost like in a ritual, if these would have
disappeared naturally, and not in a brutal
manner. Therefore, we search for defunct pasts,
deeply buried inside objects. And they hide
numerous stories, still not included in memories.
Thus, we pick as many references to artefacts as
possible from memoirs and diaries, because their
narration can wake the sleep of time, revealing
yet unknown actors of the recent history.
Although we must mention: only a concise
reference in a diary (which briefly records the
most recent past) will make the object only the
ingredient of a private view, of a still life, while,
being evoked in memoirs (which take distance
and manage with periods from long ago), the
object becomes less ‗built‘, rather a character
that bursts from the past; in a diary, the object
may remain indifferent at the disposal of the
person who notices it, while in a memoir, it must
quickly cover the distance between ‗then‘ and
‗now‘: it catches up and bursts into our
memories.
Even if it did not physically resist, china
survived from a cultural point of view. Due to its
certain presence, it represents strong signifiers
for a revolute period. And it goes without saying
that now they are pushing their owners into the
past, making them obsolete. These are people of
which we speak of using the past tense, because
their time stopped at a certain point. Therefore,
we attempt to study things wrapped in words,
objects awaiting their own story to be restored.
They are still produced and sold in postcommunist Romania today. However, their
production date is not important, their social age
is. Frills are born old in our perception.
However, we should note that a ‗frill‘ represents
a semiotic object with various signifiers, it can
(1) The reference regarding ‗the memory of an unfinished time‘ is found in Stolojan 2007, 200.
(2)
The memories of those who left abroad
demonstrate why the narrative approach of
obsolete objects or decors can become a point of
view regarding the manner in which we see how
the so-called culture of mourning awakens certain
patrimonial interests. As exile is defined through a
sort of mystic human-space relation, due to the
idea of loss in the first place and, second, to that
of absence: loss has impact over the individual,
absence distorts space; man feels diminished,
space seems disintegrated. In the first case, the
amputation a person‘s experiences when he leaves
his country brings along a certain identity
insufficiency. The exiled renounces his own
territory; a man without a homeland is stripped of
his old fellowship, the coherence of his biography
until that point also depending on his
geographical location. In the second case, the
exiled considers that his own absence induces a
sense crisis to the place he had occupied at home;
everything is caused by the conviction that space
becomes intelligible only through the presence of
the individual who takes it into consideration;
thus, being absent meant to symbolically destructure it, make it anonymous.
(3) This is an acute state of mind for the Romanians
who had returned from exile. Their literature
makes us believe that everyone‘s time is
comfortable in a domestic perimeter which we
individualise now or we customise it
retroactively. Thus, the biographical stages of the
exiled seem to bear geographical coordinates. Are
we truly born for a length of time that can only
gain consistency through the mediation of space?
In order to answer this question, we distinguish
three possible situations: first, when we place
ourselves spontaneously in the same ‗non-
returnable‘ time type, the time from home, a time
for free and seemingly implicit, very little
acknowledged as such; second, when we are
already far from Romania and time bears the
meaning of a certain space (‗back then when I
was in the country…‘); third, when we lose
ourselves in a borrowed time, that of exile, a time
that is not related to a particular geography:
lacking the protection of a familiar surroundings,
we long for non-locative state, but we are satisfied
only with a comparison instead: a certain
landscape from the Alps resembles one from
home etc.
169
mean: ‗sometime before‘, ‗grandparents‘ house‘,
‗elite‘; or it may refer to self-falsification,
anachronism, kitsch, Bovary-ism, communism,
poverty. These various meanings reveal the
succession of attitudes towards these artefacts,
illustrating a social history of tastes and selfimages (Vincent 2004, XIII), in parallel with the
evolution of decorative styles. Our investigation
belongs to a field of research called cultural
biographies of things (Kopytoff 1986, 64-91).
However, it must start with a thorough
understanding of the survey‘s sources: memoirs,
diaries, interviews, letters which share
references to a past which they enclose, but
which they will not reveal completely. These are
included in autobiographical literature, called
self-narrative in the specialised language.
Therefore, we work with texts which do not
necessarily follow a chronological order and all
the stages of personal biographies. We are
interested in the rather randomly manner in
which an object, a picture or a domestic setting
is mentioned, turning it into a meaning of the
idea of ‗once upon a time‘. Why does it seem to
us that things are more expressive than facts?
We will attempt to answer this question in the
present paper.
Do we really miss what we once were, or
does the desire to reinvent ourselves prevail? Do
we leave the present by remembering? Do we
populate it with an outdated time? Or do we
recompose biography calling to a favourite past?
We waive him anyway, as we approach another.
The facts we use to tell the story of our live at
the age of 85 differ from those we had referred
to two decades earlier. The latest memory is not
necessarily cumulative; the details with which it
sometimes can lure one away may hide many
omissions. The present study does not pretend to
deplete a subject, but to plead for the neglected,
‗residual‘ historical sources, those ignored by
the eye of the researcher, because they do not
contain explicit news, revelations, anecdotes etc.
For example, in the case of Creştetul gheţarului
[The Top of the Glacier] we were not interested
in the information about Adrian Păunescu, but in
the ways in which the memory visits
heterogeneous temporal modes; or, on the
contrary, in her book ‗Chatting‘, Aurora
Liiceanu mentioning that some china gave a
couple the feeling of safety and relative certainty
is a case outside the horizon of our research
because the objects are significant of the past
and do not need to be brought back on the
agenda (Liiceanu 2010, 39-40). China is here the
redundant and convenient metaphor of routine,
the sign of an apparently unchanged present.
They do not stimulate self-evocation; on the
contrary, they urge owners to close themselves
into a timeless ‗here and now‘. However, we are
interested in articles which, although familiar,
interrupt the feeling of temporal continuity.
Whether they remain close to the owner, or they
are left behind, they somehow leave his
actuality, ruining its accordance with itself.
We have, however, counter-examples, i.e.
autobiographical writings that obviously project
the author‘s present into the past. Oana Pellea‘s
diary is included in this category: we love
objects through words, dreaming that they will
enrich the memories and thoughts of other
people as well. ‗March, 8, 2003 [...] I was
walking down the street and suddenly I felt the
need to go inside an antique shop. I started
walking faster and faster, and became anxious. I
arrived, I opened the door and I felt relieved. I
had escaped, now I was safe. I did not know
what I had escaped from, but I knew I did. I love
bookstores, furniture antique shops, they make
me feel good. Each item has something to say to
you, begging you to take it home, just like in a
pet shop. There are such things as orphan
furniture seeking for adoptive parents. It is sad
and good at the same time to be in an antique
shop. It's good because you can hear many
stories. If you know how to listen, you can learn
how this puny spoon was once a silvery piece
and the star of a baptism ceremony; or the
fabulous story of the pocket watch from the
corner of a drawer ... these two chairs are about
two hundred years old, talkative and willing to
name everyone who rested on them. [...] I went
home happy. I had escaped. But what or who
was I running from when I entered the antique
shop? ; I realized: from today.
The next day I went back and took home
two talkative chairs. There is much more noise
in my house since then. They talk and talk...‘
(Pellea 2009, 88-89). Things somehow stabilise
our perceptions of space, and once it was tamed,
they introduce us to more friendly and relaxed,
un-anguished times. This is how we are offered
the chance to revisit forgotten genealogies,
although, in the hurried 21st century the past
doesn‘t last very long, it soon expires and is
immediately replaced with another one that has
just arrived. At the same time, the number of
‗retired‘ objects rapidly and predictably
increases. The future generations will find them
trendy due to a major merit: junk reassures us
that time always comes from somewhere, that
every moment has its own little history. Due to
170
the existence of artefacts we are able to take
distance and frame our biographies, deciding by
ourselves the story we descend from.
Objects have a long way through time,
accompanying grandparents, parents and
grandchildren. By investing time in them, we
retrieve ourselves at times, even when our china
no longer belongs to us. Due to these beloved
artefacts we take distance from our previous
selves, setting stages in our biography.
Therefore, we are interested in the particular
time segment we associate them with, and the
time frame they best represent. Although we
have known them since always, we only feel
that they start to belong to us at a time of crisis
or identity related questions, when the stability
of a private environment is invoked to protect us
from the threats of the public space. Objects
seem to reject us without a story for their
background. By avoiding becoming one‘s
possession they cannot be historicized.
However, they do gain a sort of respectability,
extracted from their obvious oldness, not from
their uncertain age. After tracking some
discourse similarities and recurrences our
approach aims to demonstrate that the
association of some quite personal perceptions
(in diaries or memoirs) may lead to the
description of a ‗community‘ of feelings and
sensibilities, thus a well-defined area of analysis.
Going beyond the biographical and emotional
features of each individual diarist or memoirist,
the textual sample we select will signal some
convergent authorial subjective features, which
might indicate a spontaneous ‗objectivity‘,
simultaneously sustained and shared by several
individuals. In other words, any old object
carries a new past, which we can revive together
by verbalising it (1). Avoiding launching such a
hypothesis without further following what may
actually come out of it, our research finds its
starting point in a few simple questions: why do
we include obsolete objects in our personal
retrospectives, objects we once ignored, which
did not appeal to us in any special way?, why do
we suddenly rediscover them and how do they
‗complete‘ us? And if we focus on them, what
exactly is left outside memories? How much
historical memory can a family memory
contain? Our temporary answer is that they play
the role of the ‗Madeleine‘, the saving detail;
their ‗conservation‘ on a narrative level makes
us believe that our past can be recovered and
kept close. Why do we prefer old items, or items
outdated by our memories? Because they are
different from the proletarian, serialized,
common and anonymous ones; those that are
condemned to a life length equal to their usage
period. Therefore, the studied text genre is
mainly of an introspective nature. Due to this,
our research differs from the ‗aseptic‘
approaches, exclusively focused on the
intellectual and professional evolution, on the
social and political frame, or on a potential
conflict with the communist regime. However,
our paper does not hold a psychological
tendency: we rather follow the narrator‘s selfidentification with the revived memories,
whether personal possessions or others‘
belongings. Thus, we create new memories
rather instead of simply inventorying them when
we call into our biographies life stories which
we once intersected with. We assume them à
rebours because we recognise ourselves there by
recollecting my own memories and your own
into a ‗some other time‘, mutual for more of us.
Some of the objects populating Mircea Horia
Simionescu‘s thoughts also indicate the nature
of the text we are dealing with: ‗... each has its
own history and my feelings for each one are
different, I am thinking of a catalogue of
qualities and of the possibility of a hierarchy
using other criteria than utility. Objects
continuously generate feelings – he noted on
August, 19, 1964 –, one takes me back three
decades ago, enabling me to see my
grandmother‘s hand armed with the dust cloth,
another one takes me near a library bookshelf,
near which I felt I was going to faint from
happiness. The boundaries are narrowly drawn,
like the lines on the pavement surface making up
the squares for a game of hopscotch. You now
know very well how many squares you have to
jump over in order to pass from joy to the most
painful melancholy, from disgust to exuberance.
The concreteness of external objects helps one
organise the affective space through successful
combinations, otherwise risking mediocrity‘
(Simionescu 1998, 87). Always lenient and
always the same, objects witness the way we
change in the course of time. They are silent
biographers, replaying life fragments – initially,
too quickly consumed – in order for us to better
understand them. On the 4th of June 1965, the
same diarist discovered the difference between
his own self from that moment and that
exhibited in his diary from 1947: ‗...I was flying
too high back then, writing so merrily about
death, without considering the concreteness and
(1) Laurent Olivier talks about manufacturing
collective past. See Olivier 2001, 180.
171
eternity of things, ignoring the surrounding
small objects...‘ (Simionescu 1998, 115-116).
Thus, the writings lacking a subjective author
are of no use for us; we quote the fragments
where the author becomes reflexive, telling us
something about his civil, private and domestic
identity. Our approach is based on economical
research, analysing autobiographical literature
from a narrative rehabilitation perspective,
excluding any Freudian interpretation. In
addition, there must be a separation between
childhood related objects that belong to the
family or to others on the one hand, and, the
personal artefacts the memoirist still identifies
with later in life when trying to define himself,
on the other hand. They invoke the latter when
we would like the past to swallow a present we
no longer need.
We remember in order to thank or to
protect. In the first case, we exercise selfrecovery narrative more for the others than for
ourselves. A letter from Monica Pillat to Pia
Pillat, dating from September, 5, 1973, takes
into consideration the objects that keep us
together, close to each other, making us
complicit to the memories of others: ‗Every
object encloses its own life in itself – ten years
length, others are only a few months old, yet
each object revives moments, days, faces,
words, figures – so that rooms are full of
presences‘ (Minunea timpului 2010, 85).
Therefore, narration defies distances (Pia was
abroad), portraying house interiors (maybe never
seen for real) and then bringing together objects
and people, reuniting them in a single emotional
frame. In this case, autobiography represents a
way to return debt, to ‗reunite‘ those who gave
us a part of them, gave up a good of their own in
our favour. By remembering what others have
‗left‘ us we partially retreat from our own past
(Carlos Fuentes) and we invoke them in the
volatile space of individual memory, in order to
rejoin them, once again. In the second case, self
remembering
transposes
a
renewed
exasperation: we tell what we would like to
forget, because, once shared, memories belong
to others as well, and they seem less our own.
We feel relieved by giving them further; we
escape from them, in a sense. Moreover, the key
factor is not the effectiveness of the recovery,
but the public‘s reaction the narrator is able to
obtain. In other words, the most important thing
is that people let themselves captured by the
story and feel part of it. Reconstruction accuracy
is not the main matter, but the number of those
who acquire the author‘s memories. Together
with our nostalgia, these can secure our self,
because the individual memory is never reduced
to an interior history, it needs ‗mirrors‘, similar
traumas and ‗Siamese‘ souvenirs. In other
words, you can save those objects narrated by
their owner and mentioned again in the
memories of those who were listening to the
initial story. In his memoirs, written between
1977 and 2000, Mircea Berindei recounted
Martha Bibescu‘s memories. We look around us
leaning on words, through their use we become
spectators of never seen before sceneries: ‗the
guests were passing from the Brancovan room to
an elegant empire salon, as from one country to
another, as from an age to another, with the
astonishing speed of thought. [...] Mr. Jacques
Truelle, Minister of France in Bucharest, strokes
the arm of a chair, decorated with the head of a
sphinx, worked in bronze.
‗This furniture‘, he says to his Italian
colleague, ‗bears, if I'm not mistaken, the
incomparable seal of Jacob Desmaltier, ébéniste
de l’Empereur…‘
... ‗and it belonged to Napoleon the first,
and later to the Bauffremont family‘, added the
host. [...]
‗I received the furniture in this room from
my mother in law, Napoleon‘s niece, who had it
from the Bauffremont family, with whom she
was related. The name Bauffremont is, of
course, familiar to your Excellency, also from
Marcel Proust‘s book, Pastuches et Mélanges, as
the name of the‘ first race of our kings who
could rightly claim the throne of France ‘, as the
author acknowledges (Berindei 2004, 93-94).
Berindei noted that Martha Bibescu told the
legend of the furniture to all the guests who
were there for the first time. Considering its
value, the story was worth recounted and the
new visitor also entered the biography of an
object or another, along with the past
generations of viewers.
The frills! We do not believe that people
intended to collect them during communism,
however, given the fact that they were such a
common gift back then – the universal gifts,
proper for any occasion or any receiver – so that
many Romanians became collectors unwillingly
(1). In fact, we are less attached to the objects
(1) The sociology and anthropology of the gift set
this situation into the category of things
exchanged in equality-matching relationships,
very suitable for ‗the Socialist ethics and equity‘:
172
than to the places they occupied for such a long
time. This is the reason why we distinguish
between occasional object references and
interior descriptions interesting in themselves.
We may encounter in autobiographical literature
either a memoirist who refuses to acknowledge
the passage of time and goes back to the
beginnings of his lost home, or one who
surrounds himself with objects in order to gather
some memories in anticipation for later, a kind
of ‗ready-made‘ melancholy. Both treat their
home as a ‗pedestal‘ for themselves. Thus, in her
role of ‗Scheherazade‘, Martha Bibescu urged
her guests to admire the intentioned disorder in
some rooms from Mogoşoaia, apparently
neglected, in order to resemble the ancient
Oriental thesaurus, or the so-called Chambres
des Merveilles in the West. In 1940, a visiting
diplomat, Mircea Berindei, remembered that
episode, analysing the manner in which the
specificity of the objects she was attached to
influenced her social attitude. ‗She was perfect
for her role as chamberlain-guide and she was
expressing herself with the elegance of a royal
highness...‘ said Berindei, after he had
extensively described the ‗inventory‘ the
princess used for the scene: ‗...On the tables
there were laid large stitches embroidered with
gold and silver threads, shining copper
candlesticks, coloured in green by the passage of
time; there laid, as thrown there by accident, old
bibles, with covers made of expensive metal,
pearl or wood carvings, hookahs, scimitars,
censers, beads of Amber, filigree jewellery
boxes and many other valuable trinkets. On the
floor there were numerous prayer mats, bearing
the marks of faithful Mohammedans‘ knees, and
in the middle of the room, on an easel, there
reigned an oil portrait of Prince Brâncoveanu. At
the left, on a wall, a huge painting represented
King Louis XIV of France, contemporary with
the Romanian ruler, as a baby, lying on wrinkled
velvet. The room had something of the metal
and polychrome splendour of a Greek church,
but at the same time, it also resembled that of a
bazaar from Istanbul, stuffed with various,
heteroclite, unexpected and delightful objects‘
(Berindei 2004, 86). However, we must
acknowledge the danger of becoming prisoners
of such texts, issuing convenient paraphrases,
lacking any analytical approach, at the same
time. This sort of warning is also to be found in
Matei Calinescu‘s diary. Referring actually to
Martha Bibescu, he wrote on the January, 9.
1981: ‗Preparing my course of 20th century
literature, which I start from Proust, I don‘t read
criticism regarding Proust‘s literature, but
testimonies and biographical materials. This is
how I came over Le voyageur voile by Marthe
Bibesco, full of aristocratic kitsch, sometimes
punctuated by a spiritual note, which, however,
often does not belong to her. For example, the
laconic observation of Antoine Bibesco, a friend
of Proust‘s: ‹‹ce qu‘il y a d‘admirable dans le
bonheur des autres, c‘est qu‘on y croit››. All the
quotes from Proust are superb, even if their
starting point is often kitsch (genealogicalnominal slipslops)‘ (Călinescu 2005, 226).
Restored in the memory, the bourgeois
living room forms an interior landscape with a
sweet impressionistic structure; the description
abounds in reminder-objects, those we recall
when we want to go back in time, following our
own traces (Moran 2006, 27-42). Sanda Niţescu
reconstructs through words ‗the black lacquered
‗Cubist‘ living-room, which my newlyweds and
pro-modern parents bought, along with the rest
of the furniture, before the war, namely in 1935.
This furniture, which had got with a brown
shade here and there in the course of time,
contained a square table which could be
extended – for twelve people –, a dozen of
chairs upholstered with Biege cloth chiné, a
cabinet filled with all kinds of china and
figurines of questionable value, but not without
a certain amount of charm, and a long buffet –
from the same set lacquered black – upon which
there was a wooden Telefunken radio receiver.
This huge buffet, seated along the wall,
sheltered cutlery, the most precious crockery,
Mother‘s beautiful white damask table cloths‘
(Niţescu 2008, 46). The above description can
become boring for a reader who does not know
how those things looked like, but the accents the
author uses in order to humanize the
‗perspective‘ can arouse our curiosity. Things
are pretexts to notice people, family members or
acquaintances who we later believe symbolize
lost civilizations. Thus, objects that today seem
common represent a kind of ‗skeleton‘ or
‗escutcheon‘ of those who did not leave any
other portrait or metonymy of their biography.
‗The room seemed untouched since the 19th
century – said Mircea Berindei, referring to
Eugenia Nicolau‘s house in Târgu-Mureş –,
when it seems it had been inhabited by very
generous, because upon the well polished
neither the giver, nor the receiver lost or gained
anything in a disproportioned manner, the
presents being chosen in order to place them both
on an equal symbolic level. See Comter 2005, 24.
173
example, Valentina Carp, teacher: ‗... down on
the sofa covered with a Persian rug where she
slept at night, there were incredibly numerous
pillows covered in cloth decorated with oriental
motifs, needled by her on the back cloth, or
painted on velvet. Moreover, Romantic oriental
elements were present in the reception room as
well. Among other things, there was a very low
hexagonal wooden table, which she had pyrographied with the same oriental motifs. (pyrography was fashionable at the time.) On the
table stood in an artistic manner, like in a ‗still
life‘ painting: a hookah, an amber necklace, a
small album of postcards from Constantinople...‘
(Berindei 2004, 19). What were the oriental
interiors suggesting? Were they inevitable in the
homes of the elites because the royal residences
had accepted them implicitly? (1). In his
dialogue with Filip Lucian Iorga about the
mansion in Blânzi, Alexander Paleologu did not
leave aside one of the mandatory components of
an aristocratic house from that period: ‗... to the
left there was a door towards a Turkish styled
room. It was an old custom to gather things from
your Oriental travels into one room. They were
not necessarily Turkish, but Oriental: sofas,
cushions, couches... – Maybe a hookah. –
Unmistakably. And you could comfortably
spend your siesta there, resting and reading in
the afternoons‘ (Breviar pentru 2007, 58-59).
This is the East revealed by Western means, a
generic East, Arab rather than Ottoman. It was
the world in which, starting from the 18th and
19th centuries, the Westerner had only seen
turbans, harems and hookahs: a hetero-tope
within which time was still during its siesta,
before entering the speed of the modern years.
This is not an actual East, but a parallel
dimension, that of from one thousand and one
nights; from there you can look inside the
backstage of history, uninvolved, without fastforwarding its clocks. A cultured East in this
manner dissolves its geographical coordinates
and virtually migrates wherever it is desired and
dreamed of. It becomes a new ‗room filled with
marvels‘, a trunk stuffed with pauses and
wonder. This is the pattern we use when, after
1878 and 1913, we adopt ‗adopt‘ as patrimony
Dobrogea and the Quadrilateral, treating them as
an internal East. Interiors with oriental or
Phanariot inflections did not give a melancholy
touch to the Ottoman past. But it suggested that
the falchions and sofas could be taken as local
honey-coloured wood furniture there were
placed trays and kettles, sugar basins and bowls,
in the most perfect harmony, all made of silver,
and the glass case contained crystals, china,
flatware, the latter were placed in their original
boxes clad with purple silk, all of them valuable‘
(Berindei 2004, 17). He also made a more
expressive comment regarding how to court the
objects we cohabitate with, ‗Ms. Nicolau had
painted something meanwhile, a picture was
born out of nothing and I was avidly searching
for it. I was suddenly discovering on the easel a
canvas that represented, for instance, a pot of
bluebottles. I was recognising the vessel in
amazement, the one that was usually set on the
commode, as well as the oval table‘s rounded
corner, even a part of the tablecloth, where a
book was laid as by chance, yes, The Illustrated
World Almanac for the current year, the same
Ms. Nicolau had given to me, as usual,
immediately after it was published‘ (Berindei
2004, 18). ‗The owner used to transpose on the
canvas these small pieces of visual truth,
transferring them into a bi-dimensional and ahistorical register, as if the objects near her were
coming out of the paintings and not vice-versa.
Pallady noted in his diary a somewhat similar
episode – the painter received a bowl, the giver
believing that it will be once found in one of the
master‘s works (Pallady scriind 2009, 182). But
his hopes were in vain, because Pallady did not
automatically portray prosaic spaces of
existence: ‗…the object is worthless in itself...
the artist must symbolize it...‘, he theorized on
the 18th of February 1941 (Pallady scriind 2009,
168). On March the 25th of the same year he
completed his idea with the following aphorism:
‗To go beyond the subject ... which should be
only a starting point for expressing what we
personally see in it‘ (Pallady scriind 2009, 177).
Pallady admitted painting‘s inability to avoid
narrative colonization, the object‘s entrance into
the frame of the picture depending on the story
that recommended it. Things are useless if they
do not contribute to the consistency of a
moment: that of enjoying the already
‗posthumous‘ image of a painted object,
rediscovered as an old acquaintance on the
canvas. Thus, we are able to reinvent and
become their ‗parents‘ so that their world starts
all over again from us, the ones who give them
another life.
The cultural and epic that bring a meaning
to an interior are no less important, connecting it
to the macro trends, transforming it into their
late epigone. Mircea Berindei provides another
(1) We refer here to the residence of Alexandru Ioan
Cuza din Bucharest. See Spirescu 2010, 75.
174
products, without being considered among our
identity marks. Interiors ‗à la torque‘ formed a
Romanian Ruritania, which we gradually
colonized, both on a space and memorial level:
the palace of Carmen Sylva from Constanţa with
that of Marie in Balchik, with the myth of Ada
Kaleh, with the Bedouin clothing from masked
balls etc (1).
The human-object relation is one of
mutual support and meaning: things die only
once with those able to say something about
them, the ‗deceased‘ artefacts are not those burnt
or stolen, but those that nobody talks about them
anymore. Here lies the difference between the
‗elitist‘ frill and that of ‗masses‘, from the
communist years. The first was remembered
depending on its origins (Paris, Vienna), while
the ‗proletarian‘ ones do not persist inside our
memory through the object‘s actual qualities,
but through the memory of the moment when it
was given to us, or of the person who gave it to
us. It seems like frills existed ‗by themselves‘
before 1945, as a part of a lifestyle, customizing
the room that contained them; afterwards, they
became too explicitly ornaments or gifts, series
objects making thousands of homes anonymous.
Moreover, the continuously shrinkage of the
living area ‗multiplied‘ this kind of items. We
see the ugly communist frills as a contemporary
phenomenon, but not necessarily actual, as their
disregard already proves a temporal and cultural
distancing of those times when we all valued
them highly. A similar mnemonic process is
applied in the case of the ‗bourgeois‘ frills, but
this time in an appreciative sense: it is recovered
on a narrative level after 1989, and only its
caducity making it the mark of a lost, and also
regretted, time. More clearly, let‘s leave Freud
alone and accept the fact that ‗the Meissen‘ and
the ‗ballerina‘ can still be counted among the
recent historical sources. It all depends on the
skill to obtain information from them. However,
we do not have that much time available, as the
‗aristocratic‘ china in street fairs represent a
kind of warning. The ‗antiques‘ exposed on
Lăpuşneanu Street in Iaşi are not being
purchased because they would be contrastive
with the cliché designs of our buildings. They
seem strange to us and we are not keen on taking
into our homes. Nobody needs them anymore,
because those elegant manners that made them
necessary are now dead. And, regardless of how
much we try, we cannot restore the feeling of
familiarity with the old concept of ‘good taste‘.
They would be more suitable inside an
anthology of old manners. From this point of
view, communist education was successful; it
managed to inoculate an alienation from the
Biedermeier universe. As without storytellers,
objects remain abandoned memories. Life
withdrew out of them, and our generation never
got the chance to know them at all. No matter
how much we appreciate them, the old frills
preserve a dose of irrefutable strangeness in our
eyes: it‘s unlikely that they would appreciate the
company of former UTC members! And we
would not be able to make a story around them;
this would their owner‘s role. These lines will
result in a small ethnography of prosaic or
ambient objects, reconditioned in the communist
period, and long after that. Initially, these
represented ‗achievements‘, and nowadays they
resist only because people do not have the
money to replace them. Being out of use would
change them into waste, marks of a time we are
no longer connected to. It is crisis that explains
the obedience towards old objects, a 45 years
long regime that discouraged the idea of private
property. In the first stage, the objects‘ age
explains the people‘s present time. In the second
stage, the latter‘s memory defends the items‘
past and existence. The frills we refer to here do
not matter as household decoration accessories,
the differences between the bourgeois trinkets
and their communist relative consisting of the
tastes and manners mode the required.
Obviously, these discrepancies are also to be
found in the way they were mentioned later, in
the post-totalitarian period. We believe that
another important factor lies in the fact that the
bourgeois period is ‗completed‘ and thus subject
for re-symbolisation, while the proletarian time
is still ‗open‘ and cannot be included within a
single general frame. If we refer to objects in
terms of their relation with time, we must note
that they are usually apathetic. They start to
become alive when we determine where their
present ends in order to make room for the past.
In other words, they remain ‗passive‘ from the
memory point of view as long as they hold a
practical function, and become ‗active‘ after
ending the everyday wear and tear and we invest
them with other functions, usually of mnemonic
(1) Related to the eternal recurence of objects, we
transcribe here an anecdocte: on the 4th of May
1931, Charles the 2nd and Nicolae Iorga were
visiting Ada Kaleh island; the soveignor used to
stop at ‗Moka‘ cofee-shop, where the hosts served
him from the same cup his father, king Ferdinand,
had used. See (Ţuţui 2010, 34).
175
nature (1). Although we are accustomed to
preserving convenient memories, objects do not
hurry to complete our retrospection. They are
not event witnesses, but rather accomplices of a
particular self-discourse. They are mentioned
out of the fear that words are not sufficient;
objects are invoked in order to increase
credibility. We do not recall frills regardless our
age, only after we have a large enough past in
order to desire its stability. Thus, telling stories
about objects is not only related to the owner‘s
present, but also to the end of the concept of
‘normality‘: something is not the way it used to
be! They help to keep the past in the present‘s
backwater, to keep it familiar. This is how we
get the impression that yesterday is decades old.
What reason is there for our glance or
memory to stumble upon an object? Some of
them are still with us and restore through
memory the people who sometime ago were
around them too; others are lost forever, their
meet their owners only within their regrets; the
third category include the objects which were
voluntarily abandoned by the exiled owners:
these are objects we lack the most, because they
accompany us everywhere with their absence.
At least for Ion Vianu, returning in his home
country also meant the encounter with estranged
objects, the feeling that abandoned things never
cease waiting for us, discreetly testing the
memoirist. Therefore, he began a reconstruction
using regained objects, or, more accurately said,
remembered. If we seriously consider some
retrospectives, we conclude that the memory of
some of us hardly survives, with the approval of
objects. ‗It's like objects would decide when,
how and where you remember things and people
from the past‘, Herta Müller noted. Made of
invincible, lifeless and durable material, thus of
a wholly different nature than ours, these objects
upon their own revival within the human mind.
Objects dominate the present moment, and once
they sprung before us, they relate to past stories.
[...] Objects continuously build their own
complicity, while the persons and events around
obey them‘ Müller 2005, 135-136). They wear
out and even disappear; they can only bring
feelings back to us, rejuvenating them now and
then. Gabriel Liiceanu talks about the emotional
edifice of his life, illustrating through this
expression the anti-diegetic type of text, upon
which we further focus our own research
approach (Liiceanu 2008a, 6, 101). Thus, we
identify as many such scriptural ‗introversions‘
as we can find, attempting to sketch a report
regarding modes of ‗gardening‘ the ego, with the
great aid of time. Starting from the ‗tool-object‘
analysed by Liiceanu (2008a, 12-15), we ask
ourselves: how do we treat the objects we do not
perceive as such, the ones which do not have a
specific role? Are we able to shape the history of
the solutions found in the course of time
regarding this issue? Let us pretend that at least
these ‗companionship‘ objects have lost their
purpose and are waiting for us to assign them a
new one. And so, they do receive one when we
admit that a humble object may become a
permanent ‗subsidiary‘ of the self. The same
Liiceanu reveals it, in a letter addressed to his
son: ‗I would like to leave you something [...] a
few of my things that did not count more than a
breeze throughout my existence. [...] They
resemble the small odds and ends girls usually
keep inside a nice encrusted box, fetishes of
their lives which they won‘t abandon until the
end of their lives. It is because there lay the
marks of their most valuable life experiences, if
you know their story. Imagine that I have a pile
of peddlers in front of me. I scatter them, and
take one in my hand from time to time, I turn it
around and show it to you, and then I put it
back. Anyway, the box will be yours and you
will find each one in there‘ (Liiceanu 2008b,
229). In other words, only our nostalgia
manages to push things into a new existence
(Isanos 2010, 83). For memory is not a simple
sum of backgrounds received altogether, they
are multiplied or reduced depending on the
number of present contexts we join them with,
in order to keep them alive. Therefore, old
things make us more responsible, especially as
they relate to the stories of others to a larger
extent than to our own.
Socialism is gone, but its truths are still
coming back. Can we really remember it
completely excluding ourselves from this
recovery effort? For the moments of social
rupture force the individual to make an effort of
re-explaining his life. For example, the
establishment of the totalitarian regime raised
the question of one‘s origin, its fall in 1989
valuing, perhaps excessively, the biography of
the same people. The post-1947 regime had a
special passion for genealogy, claiming
elaborate autobiographies, justifying complicity
or guilt. We do the same nowadays to some
extent only that for different purposes, we are
doing our best to recover the period before 1944,
(1) An example of previous disposed objects that
later became museum items is found in Bonnot
2002, 157.
176
trying to find a prominent ancestor at any cost: if
we had had landowner parents, surely our
grandmother would have painted and an uncle of
ours would have played the violin! No wonder
Ion Vianu mentioned a counterfeiter of
‗Grigorescus‘, who easily found a Bovary-like
clientele ever since communism (Vianu 2009,
115). We quickly pass from our ‗hidden past‘ to
our ‗worth-telling‘ past. A similar mnemonic
type of exercise is instrumented with conflicting
results: in communism origin accused the autobiographer, while now, after communism, it
awards the memoirist.
Dumas 2011
Eckermann
1965
Frunzetti
2001
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The Bible – Source of Postmodern Literature
(Scriptural Quotation in Contemporary Literature)
Maria-Nicoleta CIOCIAN
University Assistant PhD, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University, Cluj-Napoca, Romania
Faculty of Psihology and Education Science
E-mail: nicoletamaria2001@yahoo.com
Abstract. The present study wishes to offer Livius Ciocârlie‘s ‗Cu faţa la perete‘ (1) a reading
based on biblical intertextuality, the scriptural text thus becoming a fertile source of inspiration for
contemporary literature. The depictions of the biblical quote as well as the functions that it serves in the
literary text lead to the conclusion stating that the Romanian writer proves himself to be the explorer who
has clear knowledge of the entire investigated biblical field. The biblical text, which became intertext in
Livius Ciocârlie‘s work, cannot be left with a fragmentary interpretation, exempt from the whole to which
it belongs. The reader, engaging in a dialogue with the author, promises to make a pact: that of becoming
a reader of the Holy Scripture in order to be a dialogue partner for Livius Ciocârlie.
Key words: intertextuality, biblical quote, dialogue, Bible-literature relationship
In1 the present paper, we shall not deal
with an approach centered around the literary
features of the Holy Scripture, but deal with a
literary text, more specifically that of a diarist,
approaching biblical fragments from a less usual
perspective: a literary one. We would like to
offer a new reading track – from the perspective
of the biblical intertextuality – to a text by
Livius Ciocârlie: Cu faţa la perete. We shall
analyze and elaborate the biblical quotations
from the first part of the text. Due to the length
limitations we can not approach the ones found
in the second part, seen through the eyes of
Bernardo Soares.
The Holy Bible becomes, in the
postmodern age, source of literature. It
influenced and has been constantly influencing
the development of literature. Very little has
been written in our culture about the Bible–
literature relationship, the Romanian researchers
being especially preoccupied with the
linguistically nature of the problem (valuable
studies have been written on the contribution of
the Biblie‘s translations towards the evolution of
the Romanian language – Florica Dimitrescu,
Eugen Munteanu, Viorica Pamfil, Dan
Zamfirescu,
Vasile
Arvinte,
Alexandru
Andriescu and so on).
We find ourselves compelled to give
credit to an approach which depicts the dialogue
with religion transposed in a diary, as well as the
results to which such an endeavor may lead. We
thus grasp the way in which the Bible is being
turned to advantage in contemporary Romanian
literature. We hope that the results of our
analysis shall reveal the contribution that
theological ideas have upon nowadays‘ cultural
debates.
The quoting of Biblical verses has, in
Ciocârlie‘s work, the greatest weighting in Cu
faţa la perete.
A shallow relationship of intertextuality
between the quote and its source may be easily
established by the reader. However, the exact
reconstruction of the hypotext implies a more
detailed approach on the Scripture. We will
expect, from the very beginning, that the quoted
text is addressed to an informed reader, who can
easily establish the intertextual relationship
between the two types of texts.
The biblical quote thus becomes, at a
textual layer, a dialogue with religion; this leads
to the acceptance of religion, to a desire to
understand the sacred text and to another form
of knowing one‘s self. In the selection of the
biblical quotes, I didn‘t analyze the ones that
bring nothing new (from the perspective of the
intertext) as opposed to the ones that we shall
make reference to. Moreover, I didn‘t note
devious aspects of the biblical intertexts
(inaccurate or rephrased quotes, paraphrases and
so on), allusions made to the sacred text are
followed, every time, by a precise reference, by
(1) Cu faţa la perete (original Romanian title), literary
meaning: ‗facing the wall‘.
180
an exact reproduction of the quote, thus proving
once again the real preoccupation that the author
has for fundamental religious texts. Such a great
number of biblical quotes in the diary are proof
of the viability of these kinds of pursuits. We
will analyse configuration methods of the quoted
text in the text that it is being quoted into,
without a very careful analysis of each quotation
individually. All the biblical quotes inserted in
Ciocârlie‘s text open the way to reflection,
meditation, and interpretations and endeavor to
understand the Christic message. A detailed
analysis can outline orienting milestones in our
approach of the diarist‘s work from the
scriptural perspective, in an attempt to enlighten
the biblical mystery.
The dialogue with the Holy Scripture has
its debut in Cu faţa la perete with the analysis of
Christ‘s response about his speaking in parables:
‘Strange thing was Jesus‘s reply when asked by
the apostles why he talks to people in parables:
because, unlike them, the apostles, people have
been given [the ability] to know the mysteries of
the heavenly kingdom. It would mean that
people don‘t need to understand the meaning of
the parables. Should they stick to their letter – or
literature?’ (1) (Ciocârlie 2010, 114). Here,
Livius Ciocârlie gives a defective interpretation
to the text of the Scripture, because Jesus speaks
in parables in a manner that his auditorium
would understand. The Romanian author makes
the biblical text seem not clear enough, lacking a
meaning close to general comprehension; he
corrupts the text by making an interpretative
correction, which he wants to be elucidating, but
he only manages to obscure it. Thus, a literary
reading of the entire verse in being born, an
altered interpretation resulted from a voluntary
exempt from the context and an unspecialized
understanding of the scriptural verses.
The theme of faith, inability and
willingness to believe seem to be present all
throughout the lecture of the Holy Scripture.
After a short exchange of replies with
B.S., he comes back to the reading of the Bible:
‘… for it must be that offences come; but woe to
that man by whom the offence cometh! The most
striking testamentary mystery is hiding in the
relationship between what was written that it
will happen and the one through whom what
was written materializes. This one is sent with a
mission, and because he fulfills it, he will be
punished by The One that sent him. Finding his
lost sheep, the shepherd rejoiced more of that
sheep, than of the ninety nine which went not
astray. So there exists a dialectics of faith. It
must be confirmed and strengthened by doubt‘
(Ciocârlie 2010, 115).
The biblical verse, as related by the holy
evangelist Luke, in chapter 15, in the New
Testament, in a parable about the sheep that was
astray, conveys God‘s love towards the sinful
man:
‘What man of you, having a hundred
sheep, if he loses one of them, doth not leave the
ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after
that which is lost, until he finds it? And when he
hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders,
rejoicing‘ (Official King James Bible,
Authorized Version, The Book of Luke, 15:4-5).
The parable of the missing sheep is
recounted in the context of the old accusation
made by the pharisees of Judea, who seemed
dissatisfied that Jesus listens to the sinners and
tax collectors and agrees to share the same table
with them. The parable is meant to show how
liable the difference between the righteous and
the sinners is and how much permissiveness
God may manifest towards the wrong ones
incapable of repentance. The three parables
inserted by Luke the evangelist in chapter 15 are
‗an illustration of a soul‘s converting process
and unravels the unquestionable link between
freedom and grace‘ (Manoilescu 2008, 104).
Livius Ciocârlie offers an upside-down reading
of the Scripture‘s text, whose wish is to dispose
of the despair of those considering themselves
lost.
Livius Ciocârlie goes on: ‗I wouldn‘t take
mystery for inconsistency. In Testaments, some
sentences contradict one another. To forgive
your brother seventy times seven is being asked
of you by God, Who forgives nothing.‘
(Ciocârlie 2010, 115-116). The episode of
forgiving seventy times seven is told both in The
Old Testament and in The New Testament.
However, Livius Ciocârlie makes a reference
here to The Old Testament. The given
interpretation is upside-down, because the
biblical text of The Old Testament offers the
image of a punitive, yet forgiving, God or
simply of purely forgiving God (in The New
Testament). Ciocârlie‘s text places the quotation
in confusion: he mistakes the God-man
relationship for the man-man relationship.
(1) The present paper, as well as the novel quoted
have been written in Romanian. This fragment
along with other direct quotations of Ciocârlie‘
work have been brought to English by the
translator of this paper, since no other version of
the novel except Romanian exists at the moment.
181
Stelian Tofană, in circumscribing a few
traits of The Gospel of John, talks about the
frequent usage of syntagms with different,
overlapping meanings, of terms that ‗along with
their direct meaning, obviously have another
one, more profound‘ (Tofană 2001, 217), this
implying a literary technique, specific to the
author. ‗In all these forms of expression, the
Savior takes in consideration both the literary
meaning and the symbolic one, but his
auditorium always grasps the first sense. As for
these words with overlapping meaning, it must
be specified that Jesus Christ never utilizes them
with enigmatic purpose, but with the intention of
guiding the readers towards the spiritual and
deep understanding of His doings, which also
act as signs, that is to say, symbolic
connotations‘ (Tofană 2001, 219). Livius
Ciocârlie underlies that he is making reference
only to the literary meaning; he is forcing the
interpretation towards an essentially literary one,
without taking into account the theological angle
of John‘s narration, without choosing certain
biblical quotations because of their symbolic
significance. Here, doubt proves that Livius
Ciocârlie is ready to accept faith, so that, in
another fragment, he considers the Savior‘s
words and parables ‗difficult to understand‘:
‗Shattering words: You don't know what you are
asking. Are you able, to drink the cup I am
drinking…?. All of a sudden, when Jesus talks to
the archbishops, in the temples, his words and
parables are difficult to understand‘ (Ciocârlie
2010, 117). This is the reason why, sometimes,
the Savior is found in circumstances where He
has to explain what He says, which is rarely
found in the synoptics. But the author is content
with observation, ignoring the spiritual
perspective present in the Gospels.
The snipping, random or not, of some
biblical quotations in Ciocârlie‘s text, does not
make up, not even by an off-chance, a snipping
from a systematical, theological treaty. The
author is not a theologian in the modern sense of
the term. All these quotes taken from the Holy
Scripture must be understood, we consider, as a
desire to know the Lord and talk about the Lord;
a desire for a deeper understanding of the
evangelical meditation; theology in the originary
sense of the term (talking with and about God;
understanding of the divinity).
When bringing into discussion The Last
Supper, Livius Ciocârlie seems devoid of the
power of faith; wanting to surprise the reader
and trying an interpretation which lacks any
theological exegesis, he arrives to a point of
confusion: ‗If we are to take for granted what we
read in Luke, the apostles are worthless people.
They find out one is about to betray Jesus,
barely ask who and immediately want to know
which one of them is the greatest. In John, The
Last Supper does not exist, in Matthew the
wrongdoers on the cross are silent, in Mark the
heart rending Woman, this is thy son! appears
and so on‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 122).
According to the Holy Scripture, in the
case of the evangelist John, the setting of The
Last Supper is different from the other three
synoptics. The episode exists, however the
establishment of the sacrament is not related. In
the case of Matthew, we are not being told about
the repentance of the wrongdoer about to be
crucified, that appears in Luke, and about the
conversation between him and the Savior.
Woman, this is thy son! does not appear in Mark,
Livius Ciocârlie transfers segments from one
evangelist to another.
Is it a confusion or is it a knowingly
transfer of the verses of the Holy Scripture? Is
this transfer on purpose or pure accidental?
The completions or the nuances brought in
the telling of the biblical fragments sometimes
harden the lection and show a particular interest
for a theologian-researcher. He is not satisfied to
take biblical passages, but separates the verses,
compares and confronts them, but omits some
details or makes transfers from an evangelist to
another. Here we are dealing with a
deconstructive biblical intertext towards the
coordinates set by a considerable biblical
exegesis, an attempt of representation or
common understanding of some scriptural
passages. Livius Ciocârlie is moving now his
deconstructive verve towards the Holy
Scripture; he makes usage of a dislocation
treatment of the biblical passages. The
confession of the author is relevant in this
aspect, few pages later: ‗a believer I am not, but
I do live under the heaviness of the primary sin‘
(Ciocârlie 2010, 135). The transforming
intercession of Livius Ciocârlie punts, we
believe, also on the shaking of which the author
is marked at every rereading of the Holy
Scripture.‘Every time I reread, I am petrified.
Judas betrays because that is the way it was
written. Filled with remorse, in order to set
things right, he confesses that he has blamed an
innocent man (Peter, the chosen one, cries his
cowardice stealthily) and returns the silver
coins. Being mocked, he commits suicide. He
we must hate, not the rest. If at least it would
have said that he repented for all because that it
182
is how it was written. Then you could have told
yourself: it is a mystery, therefore nothing left to
understand‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 120-121).
The fulfillment of the prophecies is seen
with unfaithful eyes, the attempt of the
evangelists to present the events as being part of
the godlike plan of the world‘s salvation is, for
Livius Ciocârlie, a failed attempt, a suspicion, a
misunderstanding of the presentation of Christic
events of the Savior‘s activities as being the
fulfillment of the revelation.
It is as if Livius Ciocârlie wants to
recreate, through these inside out readings, a
‗new circuit of sense‘ (Genette 1982, 453). He
has notable ability of ‗reading‘ differently the
Holy Scripture.
Could it also regard, through the
transcription of the biblical passages, an attempt
of seeking his own never found identity?
‗Another anguish is given by the incapacity of
finding one‘s identity. I do not know if this is a
solution; an answer, however, it is: self
conscience can tell the self that identity with
himself to no end is to be found‘ (Ciocârlie
2010, 101).
After a few pages, another biblical
reference is inserted in the text:
‗Jesus, to John Very truly I tell you, you
are looking for me, not because you saw the
signs I performed but because you ate the loaves
and had your fill. He tells this in order to shift
from earthly food to heavenly nourishment. The
argument is, however, weak. It was the wonders
and not hunger, of any kind, that determined
people to follow Jesus – a realistic explanation
so therefore frustrating, lacking spiritual sense.
In the Book of John, Judas is a devil. He loses
his substance. He can no longer be, not even, a
symbol of betrayal‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 124).
Here, Livius Ciocârlie is putting together
two different biblical episodes: the miracle of
bread propagation and Judas‘s betrayal. The
piece of bread is the one that links the two parts:
in the first part, Jesus is the bread; in the second
part, Judas is being remarked before the
disciples through the sharing of bread (Judas
received sacrament without being worthy).
The miracle of bread propagation,
‗interesting example of multiple meaning‘
(Tofană 2002, 368), is told in the Holy Gospel
of John, in chapter six (1) and represents ‗the
godlike power of Jesus working for a suffering
crowd whose sorrow sensitizes him‘ (Tofană
2002, 368). Livius Ciocârlie here also offers an
inside out interpretation of the evangelic text,
denying the spiritual values of the Christic
message.
Considering Judas a devil, Livius
Ciocârlie brings in discussion chapter 13, verse
27 of the Holy Gospel of John: ‗Then after he
had taken the morsel, Satan entered into him.
Jesus said to him, ‗What you are going to do, do
quickly.‘ (The Bible or The Holy Scripture, John
13, 27, 1573).
It can be observed that here, Livius
Ciocârlie brings into discussion the episode of
the betrayal, as related by the evangelist John,
because the latter insists on certain words that
were omitted by his predecessors, introducing
the lexeme Satan and depicting, thus, the
Christic mystery in all its depth. ‗The Book of
John is the most dynamic of all the Gospels, a
unique work situating its author among the
world‘s most inspired‘ (2).
After an exchange of replies with
Bernardo Soares, the text of the diary comes
back to annotating on the Scripture: ‗Seen from
the outside of Christianity, in His argument with
the pharisees, Jesus is not convincing. All He
does is state His identity, without any reason for
why He should be believed‘ (Ciocârlie, 2010,
125). Here, the text is inadequate, the truth of
the biblical fragment is overthrown – Jesus does
not want to convince the pharisees, with whom
He is frequently ironic, but wants to convince
His followers of the Christic truth.
We then go back to the Judaic lack of faith
and condemnation related by Luke:
‗Anyone who loves their life will lose it,
while anyone who hates their life in this world
will keep it for eternal life. It is as though Calvin
were talking, not Jesus. Why should man not
love his life and want eternal one? Logically, it
means it would have been better for us not to
have been born. (While computerizing: wrong.
Logically, it is worse: hate opens the pathway to
the after-world).
Luke: the devil had already prompted
Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus.
How about ‗it was written‘? Is the devil a
collaborator of God? Sure seems like it since
Jesus says so that the Scripture may come true.
And after giving Judas the bread Satan then took
(1) The transcribed fragment in the ciocârlian‘
(association with the author‘s name) text is related
in chapter 6, 26: ‗Jesus answered them, saying:
<<….>> The Holy Bible, new international
version.
(2) An introduction to The Gospel of John in the
Romanian version of the Bible that was used for
the purpose of helping write this paper.
183
attempt to unravel, through them, one’s own
self.
Coming up next, another passage about
the biblical message makes the focus of our
attention: ‗No matter how much I try, I cannot
agree with the wonders. They seem too simple a
solution to me. For example: Paul in his dispute
with the charlatan from Paphos. I was expecting
strong arguments from someone about to
become a great theologian. But he blinds his
adversary literally, not with the light of his
ideas!‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 131).
A couple of pages later, before a Leszek
Kolakowski quote, Livius Ciocârlie transcribes a
quotation from the Apostle Paul: ‗Very rarely
will anyone die for a righteous person, though
for a good person someone might possibly dare
to die. The miracle, that redeems many things, is
that there are people who die for other people,
helping them, without asking whether they are
good or bad‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 145).
The fifth chapter of Romans, ‗part of the
missionary work of the great Apostle‘ (2),
entitled The Rewards of Turning Towards Faith.
Adam and Christ, describes ‗God‘s favor‘
(Jones, 2000, 28) and transcribes what the holy
Apostle Paul used to preach by speech. The
Savior ‗did not die for a righteous man, not even
for a righteous or friendly world, but he died for
a world full of godlessness and enmity towards
Him […]. What boundless love! What
indefinable grace!‘ (Moldoveanu 2001, 170).
Livius Ciocârlie shatters the biblical text
and interprets it in a literal way. Verses 6-11
depict ‗the universality of sin‘ and ‗the
universality of grace‘ (Moldoveanu, 2001, 170)
as a general truth for all of humanity: ‗You see,
at just the right time, when we were still
powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very
rarely will anyone die for a righteous person,
though for a good person someone might
possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his
own love for us in this: While we were still
sinners, Christ died for us. Since we have now
been justified by his blood, how much more
shall we be saved from God‘s wrath through
him! For if, while we were God‘s enemies, we
were reconciled to him through the death of his
Son, how much more, having been reconciled,
shall we be saved through his life! Not only is
this so, but we also boast in God through our
Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now
him over. First there was the thought and after
that Satan possessed him? Inconsistencies‘
(Ciocârlie 2010, 126-127).
Chapter 12, verse 25, of the Book of John
says: ‗Anyone who loves their life will lose it,
while anyone who hates their life in this world
will keep it for eternal life‘ (The Bible, New
International Version), and the annotations of
the Scripture regard the word life as having two
layers of meaning. We could also consider the
issue thusly: ‗For whoever wants to save their
life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for
me will find it‘ (Matthew 16:25, New
International Version of The Bible). The same
annotations do not consider the verb to hate
(Hebrew term coming from old Greek and,
through it, in modern languages) as being used
in the proper sense, ‗for Jesus never encourages
hate, but the ability to immediately and utterly
let go of loved ones, in order to be closer to
God.‘ (Luke 14:26, New International Version
of The Bible Matthew), aware of the risk of
using this verb, rephrased this thesis: ‗Anyone
who loves their father or mother more than me is
not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or
daughter more than me is not worthy of me‘
(Matthew 10:27, New International Version of
The Bible).
Livius Ciocârlie reads the Savior‘s words,
here, to the letter, giving both a literal and a
literary interpretation of these fragments. He is
not taking into account the scientific
investigations made by specialist in the biblical
field; investigations which may no longer be
eluded in such a context (1). The abandonment
of such theological investigations does not
mean, in this context of Ciocârlie‘s work,
scientific isolation, but rather an attempt to
understand another perspective of the biblical
text, a reading, sometimes literary, of some
scriptural passages. The biblical fragments are
brought over and inserted in another textual
field, different from that of theological
investigation. The result is remarkable: an
attempt to impose the Christic truth to other
coordinates, those of literature and diary, an
(1) ‗If we do not obey rules of interpretation, very
many teaching may be extracted from the
parables. Our Lord himself gave the interpretation
of many parables, but where there is none given,
it is necessary to check if our interpretation agrees
with other verses dealing with the same topic in
The New Testament.’ – Kenneth JONES,
Evanghelia Bibliei – 15 lecţii din epistola lui
Pavel către Romani,‘Agape‘ Publishing House,
2000, p. 44.
(2) From the introduction to Romans in the Romanian
version of the Bible that was used to help write
the present paper.
184
received reconciliation‘ (Romance 5, 6-11 in
New International Version of the Bible).
The author‘s attention is diverted to The
Holy Apostle Paul’s Epistles, which marks the
end of the scriptural incursion in the volume Cu
faţa la perete. The periplus of quotation opens
up with a sort of introduction: ‗Paul is among
the originary apostles. He was not molded by
Jesus. There persists in him a little piece of
devil, you might say. He argues with Varvara,
his proselytism comrade –and they fall out‘
(Ciocârlie, 2010, 144).
It can be deduced that Livius Ciocârlie
knows the history the gospel is passing on in the
apostolic age: the Holy Apostle Paul is a
missionary, ‗one of the greatest ever in the
service of the Christian Church‘ (Verzan, 1996,
7), because the other apostles began their
activity before the historical birth of the Church.
Paul, also called ‗apostle of the nations‘, after
his conversion from the road of Damascus, was
miraculously called by the Savior himself.
Ciocârlie‘s annotations to Paul‘s epistles
are general consideration, appreciative, but also
veracious from a theological point of view –
‗some of the advices given in the Corinthians are
so in correspondence with the spirit of the
epoch, that it seems obvious only a bigot, not
also the believer, could take them literally
nowadays‘ (Ciocârlie, 2010, 152) – says Livius
Ciocârlie when making reference to the first
epistle to Corinthians. The interpreters of the
Holy Bible consider that Apostle Paul‘s letters
are not ‗quietly elaborated on predetermined
topics, for the purpose of which data must be
collected, studied, sorted, classified and then be
transposed on paper, according to a
predetermined plan. They are occasional
writings, that need to deal with pressing matters,
with issues waiting quick response and so
written under the impulse of the moment‘
(Constantinescu, 2002, 191). It seems that
Livius Ciocârlie hinted well into these epistle‘s
substance and motive (or he has read serious
theological works on the mission of Apostle
Paul – a question we will have to answer at the
end of these considerations upon the biblical
intertextuality of his work), because these
annotations represent an adequate reference to
the scriptural reality, without derisory elements
and without substantial meaning inversions, as
was the case with the other annotations on the
verses of evangelists. The Romanian author
either perfectly infers or knows Paul‘s texts
written ‗under the pressure of certain
circumstances or events that demanded of him
an urgent intervention in one or another
Christian community that he established‘ (1),
texts that also present ‗some obscure phrasings,
unfinished sentences, suspended thoughts,
parentheses, digressions and shallowly linked
elements‘ . Because of this ‗Paul‘s epistles must
be taken into consideration for being exactly
what they are: pieces of the great apostle‘s
missionary work, the transposition in written
word of that which he used to speak‘ (2).
The first biblical intertext from Paul‘s
epistles is based on Romans 5:7 : ‗The Apostle
Paul: For one will scarcely die for a righteous
person — though perhaps for a good person one
would dare even to die. The miracle, that
redeems many things, is that there are people
who die for other people, helping them, without
asking whether they are good or bad‘ (Ciocârlie
2010, 145).
Kenneth Jones places Paul‘s letter in
Romans under the sign of God‘s grace and
making peace with Him. ‗In Romans, chapter 5,
the Lord‘s grace is described […] Where man
greatly manifested his enmity towards God and
where his revolt for his Creator reaches its
maximum point, the Lord manifested His love,
and prepared, through the death of His Son a
means for man to make peace with God‘ (Jones
2000, 28).
‗Genuine treaty of theology‘ (Constantinescu 2002, 192), the epistle in Romans is the
most valuable of Paul‘s writings. It was written
by him ‗in his double competence: that of
servant and apostle of the Lord; as a servant, he
expresses his attitude of complete dependency
on God; as an apostle, he presents the authority
he has, as opposed to those that he addresses to‘
(Socoteanu 1996, 7-8).
The second intertextual intervention from
Romans is from chapter 8: 38-39: ‗…neither
death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things
present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor
height nor depth, nor anything else in all
creation, will be able to separate us from the
love of God… Paul does not preach; he needs no
arguments. He needs blasts, words and rhythm‘
Ciocârlie‘s comment is perfectly adequate
to the spontaneous character of Paul‘s writings
because ‗exactly this spontaneity and lack of
polish is what gives this writing their true
value‘ (3).
(1) Ibidem.
(2) Ibidem.
(3) Ibidem.
185
Chapter 9 of Romans (verse 21) – ‗chapter
which marks the shift from presenting the
Lord‘s plan to presenting the means by which
this plan may be fulfilled […] and from the
depiction of man coming true before God to the
depiction of God coming true before man.‘
(Socoteanu 1996, 159)- teases the dialogue to
such an extent that, out of context, the quotation
may be given a literary interpretation devoid of
damage. Those well informed on theology place
the focus on ‘the very same piece of clay’ from
which ‗two different types of vases result, but
are not different types of clay;‘ (Socoteanu,
1996, 282) ‗the vases of honesty or opprobrium
do not result because the clay is different, so not
due to the fact that some are part of a people
destined for salvation and others are not‘ (1)
(Socoteanu, 1996, 283).
‗To whomever is confused of the Lord‘s
discretionary action, Paul says: …Has the potter
no right over the clay, to make out of the same
lump one vessel for honourable use and another
for dishonourable use? Let us picture a painter
saying ‘I want to create a bad painting; it would
be my pleasure to do so’. When creating a
broken vase, is the potter still a potter? It is not
good, nor prudent, nor something that should be
done to argue God‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 147).
1 Corinthians then brought into
discussion: ‗Some of the advice given in the
Corinthians is so in correspondence with the
spirit of the epoch, that it seems obvious only a
bigot, not also the believer, can take them
literally nowadays. That the appointed time has
grown very short is what Paul used to think; in
reference to the Second Coming of Jesus‘
The Apostle Paul says these words in
chapter 7:29: ‗This is what I mean, brothers: the
appointed time has grown very short. From now
on, let those who have wives live as though they
had none‘ (2) and underlines the grave
importance of spiritual things (3).
He continues with the same Epistle,
chapter 9:1 – ‗Am I not free? Am I not an
apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?, Paul
writes to the Corinthians. In what manner has he
seen Jesus? Maybe only in his faith. If he had
really seen him, when he was Saul, there would
have been no reason for him to be proud. That
would mean that seeing Him, he did not believe.
(Ciocârlie 2010, 153). The questions in this
verse have double purpose: refreshing of the
awareness of God‘s greater calling and the
mission of opening the eyes to the reality of
ghostly life (4).
1 Corinthians, chapter 13:1 is brought into
the text without any comment: ‗Poem to Saint
Paul: If I speak in the tongues of men and of
angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a
clanging cymbal’ (Ciocârlie 2010, 156). Agape
is the theme of the entire chapter, an hymn
dedicated to intransient love, inserted by Paul as
elaborated piece of work (5).
2 Corinthians is the intertextual material
up next for analysis: ‗the affliction we
(2) The Holy Bible, 1 Corinthians 7:29, English
Standard Version Anglicized.
(3) ‗Regardless of how fiery earthly life may be, it is
less valuable, because it is transient, than the new
life offered through faith in Our Lord Jesus
Christ, which is eternal and happy. The one
redeemed to our Lord Jesus, among many other
gifts received from his Redeemer, also receives
the gift of wisdom and light, so they may
distinguish among values and not place a value of
less importance above one of greater importance,
and not bind his heart to something that is not
primordial, but offer themselves wholly to the
greater value‘ – Nicolae Moldoveanu, Hristos
Crucea – meditaţi iduhovniceşti la Intâia Epistolă
către Corinteni a Sfântului Apostol Pavel,
‗
Comorile Harului‘ Publishing House, Deva, 2001,
p. 218.
(4) ‗The Holy Apostle Paul confessed that he was
free, that he was an apostle, that he had seen the
Lord and turned souls back to God. All these were
not praise brought upon himself, but powerful
ghostly facts, through which he was carrying on
God‘s Will on earth. He was self-aware and
sought to live at the peak of the Greater being and
calling! We cannot live the real Christian life on
earth, we cannot be useful to the souls that
interact with us, if we are not fully aware of the
calling and mission in the world that God gave us‘
– Nicolae Moldoveanu, quoted work, p. 246.
(5) From the introduction to Corinthians in the
Romanian version of the Bible that was used to
help write the present paper.
(1) ‗In Judaism, there existed the idea that they had
different rights to salvation, as opposed to other
peoples. If the vases of honesty were made from
different clay, which would mean the Potter is not
sovereign. If a certain piece of clay would get to
Him, he would not be free to mold it as He
pleases, but he forces to make vases of honesty.
Thusly, the clay would dictate the Potter what to
do. However, if it is not up to the clay but to the
Potter, He underlines his reign. A piece of clay is a
mixture of earth and water. If there is enough
water, we shall have a soft clay, easy to mold. If
there is little water, the clay will be more like
stone. In this way, lack of moisturizing the earth
of our being, through the Word of God, may lead
to petrifying of our intentions towards God.‘
186
experienced in Asia. These words of Saint Paul‘s
offer credibility; you think that‘s what
happened. But this credibility retrospectively
reverberates on Christ (Ciocârlie 2010, 158).
Chapter 1:8 (1) reminds of an affliction in
Asia, however, the commentators of the
Scripture do not place the focus on the continent
named here, but interpret the entire verse as
cherishing the trials and suffering of mankind
for obtaining virtue.2 However, the ‗credibility
retrospectively
reverberating
on
Christ‘
(Ciocârlie 2010, 158) is a backwards
interpretation (from materiality towards Christ),
devoid of the light of faith; Christ is credible
through Himself, he needs no stable material
points.
One page later: ‗…not to put it too
severely. Such words under Saint Paul‘s quill
make of him a contemporary of ours. Precisely
in the day that I‘m improvising a page about the
need for instruments, and experimenting with it.
Saint Paul makes reference to ‗the letter of The
New Testament‘. I don‘t know how to interpret
this in the absence of footnotes. Were the
gospels collated and quickly published? Good,
but his own epistle is part of The New
Testament‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 159-160).
Livius Ciocârlie is referring here to the
same Epistle, chapter 2:5: ‗Now if anyone has
caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in
some measure—not to put it too severely—to all
of you‘ (2 Corinthians 2:5, The Holy Bible,
English Standard Version Anglicized).
The reference cannot be deduced from the
context, because the textual snipping is too little.
I have deduced the exact reference by reading on
the scriptural text. This may lead to an area of
interest regarding our analysis: Livius Ciocârlie
seems to read the Holy Scripture linearly, page
by page and the bookmarks are there where he
stops to consider the text, where the latter raises
questions, new interpretations, curiosities or
mere similitudes with his own cultural memory.
Apostle Paul‘s ‗contemporaneity‘ is also
underlined by Valeriu Anania in his annotations:
‗a dynamic temper, Paul is a river of energy and
perpetual motion‘ (3).
There is a certain thing that needs to be
admitted: the consistent character of the author‘s
biblical reading, as well as the frequency of
annotations. An essential element of the biblical
annotations is represented by the author‘s
maintained interest for unraveling the scriptural
mystery through an investigation method that is
specific of the literary texts. A reading solution
for Ciocârlie‘s biblical intertext would be the
opening in parallel of the two texts: Cu faţa la
perete and the scriptural text, the continuous
comparison between the quoted text and the text
that is being quoted into and the establishment
of the relationship between them. The resulting
bi-text can only justify its existence by bringing
the quoted text to its initial form. In want of
footnotes (Ciocârlie 2010, 160) the profane
author does not know how to interpret. A
consequence of this confession: the reading of
the biblical text happens, times and often, in the
presence of footnotes, theological interpretations
or annotation to the sacred text. A confession of
pertaining to footnotes seems extremely
important, all the more because they mediate the
intertextual relationship proper.
Livius Ciocârlie reads The Bible, asks
questions and searches for answers by reading
other verses (because he does not understand).
His searching triggers the bringing of the sacred
text closer, ignoring the temporal distance, and,
perhaps, installing a subtle strategy of bringing
into the literary text a new type of intertext, not
very used nowadays. An entreaty comes after
the quote: ‗I am asking of whoever reads my
work, if they read my work, to learn nothing
from me‘ (Ciocârlie 2010, 160). The biblical
quote does not seem to offer answers, but rather
stimulate the perpetual search for them.
Unanswered
questions,
misunderstandings, attempts to analyse from
several
perspectives,
rediscoveries,
and
comebacks upon the sacred text. Not taking,
sometimes, the revealed character of the sacred
texts very seriously may cause these suspicions.
The solutions for deciphering the Scripture‘s
(1) ‗For we do not want you to be ignorant,
brothers,[b] of the affliction we experienced in
Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our
strength that we despaired of life itself.‘ – The
Holy Bible, English Standard Version Anglicized.
(2) ‗The Holy Apostle Paul was surrounded by
numerous hardships and bore many burdens. Such
behavior coming from the world was suffered by
many who preached the Gospel. However, he
experienced certain hardships that very few did.
He recalls here such a trial, that he himself, who
was used with death, did not forget. It wasn‘t only
one of the greatest sufferings, but it also lasted for
a long time. It is difficult to understand that
exactly those who love God more and are entirely
in His service receive a greater cup of sorrow‘ –
Nicolae Moldoveanu, quoted work, p. 11.
(3) From the introduction to Romans in the Romanian
version of the Bible that was used to help write
the present paper.
187
text are not looked for in their very constituency,
but in the immediate reading of an alien context,
different from the originary one.
If we attempt a classification of the verses
quoted into Cu faţa la perete, we shall discover
that their choosing is dependent on the author‘s
preoccupations from a certain point, on the
questions that arise from certain circumstances.
The applied reading of these verses is, just as
Ciocârlie‘s attitude towards other quotes: literal
or literary, like a novel, forwards or backwards,
betraying a downright or shallow research of the
sacred text. The ultimate purpose of the biblical
intertext, it seems, knows one‘s self by means of
interrogating the sacred text. The self, the
knowing of one‘s self is brought to fruition,
Livius Ciocârlie seems to infer, only after a very
toilsome bookish experience. And the
intertextual diversity found in his diaries seems
to confirm this.
We would be right to inquire what the
function of these biblical quotes brought into
discussion is. Why The Holy Scripture – such a
rich intertextual matter – in Cu faţa la perete?
Can the adjoining of quotes substitute the need
for stable points or examples in such an
intertextual a text? Are the scriptural quotations
only apparently disorganized? Or do they have
an internal conduct that is less visible to the first
interactions with the text? Behind the biblical
intertext, can there be seen a carefully assembled
construction in the textual space or are we
dealing with biblical fragmentation and no
overview? Is the intertext a literary trick that the
author uses to hide his sincerity? Or, on the
contrary, a way to exaggerate his sincerity? Or a
simple manner of existence? (‗Their only
subject, other than the writing itself, could be a
manner of existence‘) (Ciocârlie 2010, 160).
On a prime layer, the appetite for biblical
quotes could be the cause of the incapability to
believe (or lack of healthy patience) and hope
that, in this way, the biblical text will substitute
for the lack of interior order? The biblical quotes
have, in certain instances, a cleansing function
and translate the desire to go back to places that
could have the power to install order.
One of the first considerations regarding
the purpose of inserting biblical quotes in a
literary text is, we believe, that of trying to
unravel the revelatory mystery, making it, in the
same time, accessible to the large public. The
presence of such quotes in the text can also
circumscribe to the attempt of transgressing the
limit of divinity or of choosing a solution
towards surpass a crisis (the crisis of a language
suffocated by convention, or the crisis of an
entire culture). The carrying into the text of a
dialogue with The Holy Scripture may also
translate an attempt to augment the value of the
dialogue with other writers. Livius Ciocârlie is
not the tourist that only stops to consider a few
scriptural chapters or verses, trying to
understand them. He offers a careful look and
proves to be an explorer possessing clear
knowledge of the entire investigated biblical
field.
Questions referring to the fidelity or
infidelity of the biblical quotation regarding the
original text are not justified, since the
comparison of the two texts proves that the
Ciocârlie‘s text does not contain and does not
assume false or degraded biblical quotes.
The option for a biblical intertext can also
be justified by the desire of finding a fresh and
yet not worn-out intertextual in an intertextual
literature defined by excellency. The adornment
of the Ciocârlie‘s text with biblical quotes can
be a symptom of the desire to innovate the
intertextual sources in a literature marked by
‗the feeling that art has explored all possibilities‘
(Groupe ɲ 1978, 32), feeling contoured by a
‗cumulative and plethora culture‘ (Groupe ɲ
1978, 33).
If no other book of universal literature has
been reproduced for so many times, translated or
transcribed just like the books of the Holy
Scripture (reproduced and transcribed in dozens
and hundreds of copies after the original books
of the Apostles), in the Ciocârlie‘s volume – Cu
faţa la perete – we are dealing with a copy or
transcription of very many old verses-or
newtestamentaries, the Holy Scipture becoming
a inexhaustible intertextual material. Reporting
to the biblical writings is made through the
volume, the literary text becoming, in this way,
the adequate space in which the sacred text is
being read. Interpretations are lingeringly
negociated and never fixed forever in the limits
of an avowedly or inside out reading. It does not
matter that much, if such an interpretation is
authorized or not (researchers of the Holy
Scripture would, most probably, contest
vehemently such an interpretational attempt).
What gives here value to the intertextuality
Ciocârlie‘s textuality is precisely the intertextual
source of the testamentary books.
If the art of quotation has been seen as a
sign of cultural and aesthetical instability, the art
of biblical quotations can become the clue of a
contemporary aesthetical stability, of an
existence of some reference systems which wait
188
to be explored. The biblical intertext ranks the
text which uses it at a superior level towards the
ordinary one, offering the possibility of
enlarging rough spectrum for intertextuality and
the opening of current literature towards biblical
theology. Fascination of the biblical quote
allows a new world to penetrate the world of
diary, hence contributing at the salvation of the
diaristic text. Biblical writings are writings that
also have something else to say besides telling
themselves (1).
Another motivation for the frequency of
biblical intertexts could be that of increasing the
value of the other quotations, by placing the
latter among the ones from the Holy Scripture,
or an attempt towards saving Ciocârlie‘s
confession.
Through biblical insertions, the author
seems to suggest to his own self a minimum
point of reference for his persona as well as the
readers who will want to go deeper in the
(endless) ocean of biblical studies. The
frequency of biblical intertexts in Ciocârlie‘s
text goes beyond the simple coordinate of the
theme‘s introduction, and even reaches
exegetical details that orient the reader
ingeniously and open the pathway to reflection
for him. If the postmodern writer is nothing but
an eternal scribe and all he does is reorganize
available material, and ‗originality is just a
matter of mixing‘ (Muşat, 1998, 45), Livius
Ciocârlie in Cu faţa la perete, is not solely a
scribe of biblical fragments, the book
continuously transcribing (2) other verses.
We have proved that the biblical text,
which became an intertext in Livius Ciocârlie‘s
text, cannot be interpreted by fragment and
exempt of the whole to which it belongs. The
reader engages in a dialogue with the author and
promises a pact: that of becoming reader of the
Holy Scripture in order to become Livius
Ciocârlie‘s dialogue partner.
References
Groupe ɲ Groupe ɲ, Douze bribes pour
décoller en 40.000 signes, in
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Bădărău 2007
Berce 2002
*** 2001
Ciocârlie 2010
Constantinescu
2002
Eco 1996
Genette 2000
Jones 2000
(1) In Cartea cu fleacuri, Livius Ciocârlie mentions:
‗
No matter how many things a literature book has
to say it has to be pervaded by the capacity of
telling itself. At the border there are writings
which have nothing else to say. What does
Caragiale want to say in his sketches, in O noapte
furtunoasa?, in D’ale carnavalului? Nothing
more than Bach in Clavecinul bine temperat. –
Livius Ciocârlie, Cartea cu fleacuri, ed. cit., p.
210.
(2) ‗Books always speak of other books and every
story tells a story that has already been told‘ – Eco
1996, 100.
Manoilescu
2004
Moldoveanu
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Bădărău, George, Postmodernismul
românesc
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2002.
Biblia sau Sfânta Scriptură
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2001.
Ciocârlie, Livius, Cu faţa la
perete [Facing the Wall],
Bucharest, Cartea Românească, 2010.
Constantinescu, Ioan, Studiul Noului Testament –
manual pentru seminariile
teologice [Study of the New
Testament – manual for
theological
seminaries],
Bucharest, BOR Institute,
2002.
Eco, Umberto, Limitele
interpretării [The Limits of
the
Interpretation],
Constanţa, Pontica, 1996.
Genette, Gérard, Palimpsestes, Paris, Editions du
Seuil, 1982.
Jones, Kenneth, Evanghelia
Bibliei – 15 lecţii din epistola lui Pavel către Romani
[The Gospel of Bible - 15
Lessons from Paul's Epistle
to the Romans], Bucharest,
Agape, 2000.
Manoilescu Dinu, Natalia,
Iisus Hristos în lumina
Sfintelor Evanghelii [Jesus
Christ in the Light of the
Holy Gospels], 2nd vol.,
Bucharest,
Byzanthine
Moldoveanu, Nicolae, Hris-
tos Crucea – meditaţii
duhovniceşti
la
Intâia
Epistolă către Corinteni a
Sfântului Apostol Pavel
[Christ Cross - Spiritual
Meditations of the First
Epistle of St. Paul to the
Corinthians], Deva, Comorile Harului, 2001.
Muşat, Carmen, Perspective
Muşat 1998
asupra romanului românesc
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Romanian
Postmodern
Novel and other Theoretical
Fictions], Piteşti, Paralela
45, 1998.
Socoteanu 1996 Socoteanu, Ion, Epistola
către Romani [Epistle to the
Romans], Bucharest, [f. e.],
1996.
Tofană, Stelian, Introducere
Tofană 2001
în studiul Noului Testament
– volumul II – Evangheliile
după
Luca
şi
Ioan.
Problema sinoptică [Intro2001
Tofană 2002
Verzan 1996
190
duction to New Testament
Study - Volume II - The
Gospels of Luke and John.
Synoptic Problem], ClujNapoca, PUC, 2001.
Tofană, Stelian, Introducere
în studiul Noului Testament,
vol. II, Evangheliile după
Matei şi Marcu, Documentul Quelle [Introduction to
the Study of the New
Testament, Vol II, the
Gospels of Matthew and
Mark, Quelle Document],
Cluj-Napoca, PUC, 2002.
Verzan, Sabin, Sfântul
Apostol Pavel – istoria
propovăduirii evangheliei şi
organizării Bisericii în
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Apostle Paul - preaching
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in the apostolic age],
Bucharest, Institutul biblic
şi de misiune al BOR, 1996.
Food Fantasy. The Rise of a Genre
Dana PERCEC
Associate Professor, PhD, University of Timişoara, Romania
E-mail: dana.percec@litere.uvt.ro
Abstract. The paper presents the development of a new research discipline, food studies, which has
gained prominence in the last decades, and its influence on the configuration of new literary genres.
While food is now a central subject in areas as various as history, economics, sociology, medicine,
nutrition, and cultural studies, it is also popular with the general public, books, TV shows and channels
centered on cooking, eating, and drinking being extremely fashionable today. This popularity has affected
an increasingly diversified literature as well, which proposes recipe collections inspired by the writing
style, characters, historical background of various literary masterpieces and non-canonical writings.
Key words: cookbooks, eating, fantasy, food studies, literary genres, pop culture, recipes
novels, short stories and films – revolving
around the notions of food and eating.
Similarly, the ever more dynamic field of
cultural studies has promoted, as an independent
discipline, food studies, somewhere at the
crossroads
between
history,
economy,
anthropology, and medicine. In fact, as pointed
out by Watson and Caldwell (2005, 10), food
has attracted the attention of scholars and of the
general public alike as a universal medium that
illuminates a wide range of cultural practices.
This explains the growing body of literature
intentionally or accidentally entering the realm
of ‗food studies,‘ a literature employing the
discourse and methods of anything from
philosophy to geography and from politics to
folklore. Moreover, the diversity of the field is
explained by the intimate connection between
food and identity, as Wenying Xu points out
(2008). For the Asian-American scholar, food is
a significant medium, which ‗organizes,
signifies, and legitimates our sense of self in
distinction from others,‘ (2008, 72) while, more
concretely, themes like food, hunger,
consumption, appetite, etc. carry a strong
symbolic meaning, circumscribing identity
issues such as race, gender, class, sexuality, or
diaspora.
What needs to be stressed from the very
beginning is an observation that has been made
by the editors of a recent anthology on this
topic: the fact that food studies are not the study
of food, but ‗the study of the relation between
food and the human experience‘ (Miller and
Deutsch 2009, 9). This implies a broad
methodological perspective, which covers the
study of culture and cultural artifacts, literature
Introduction
‗[…] Big meaty nous, crisp fresh verbs, a
nice seasoning of adjectives and adverbs.
Words. The stuff that dreams are made of…
very tasty dreams, fat free and calorie free, but
with no nutritive value.‘ George R.R. Martin,
author of the popular Game of Thrones series,
writes this in the Foreword of a cookery book
inspired by fictional texts. (2012, 2) The present
essay tries to account for a new fashion that has
developed of late, more strikingly in the
English-speaking world, of books which are
neither stories nor recipe collections, but a
usually astute (and charming) combination of
the two. There are ‗official‘ as well as
‗unofficial‘ cookbooks and companions to
classical authors, to contemporary popular
fiction and TV series, to children‘s and
teenagers‘ literature. There are also pieces of
experimental and creative writing, which bring
together the literary mode and the kitchen
atmosphere. Some declare an educational
purpose, while others have an entertainment or,
on the contrary, a parodic function. They are all
the result of the rise of a new discipline, food
studies.
For more than a decade, the study of food
has been a topic of interest in academic and
scientific discourse, becoming, from marginal, a
central subject on the intellectual agenda. This
increasing popularity is reflected in the great
variety of media that bring food to the forefront,
from print to television and cinema, with
bestselling books of recipes, cooking shows and
cookery TV channels, or fictional materials –
191
being one of them and thus explaining the
success of a new, borderline literary genre the
present article tries to present.
the earliest forms of exchange. In 1966, Claude
Lévi-Strauss wrote about the transformative
power of cooking, coining up the famous
‗culinary triangle,‘ (Counihan and Van Esterik,
1997, 36-43) which described the human
evolution from nature to culture and traditional
gender divisions by means of three methods of
preparing meat: roasting, smoking (both natural
methods, associated with men, involving no
receptacle), and boiling (cultural, represented by
women, involving a receptacle). Since the
1970s, nutritionism has been promoted as one of
the major medical branches. The result was an
ever growing number of guidebooks, whose
international influence is given by the ongoing
debates about body image, the keywords being
weight control, consumption, and healthcare.
But, because looking fat or thin, eating, and
fasting creates links to cultural images of
masculinity and femininity, food is also a major
theme in gender studies. Eating is an enactment
of gender, as men and women define themselves
differently by their habits related to food and
drink. More specifically, food consumption and
food deprivation are especially meaningful for
women, being employed as statements or
weapons, in social and sexual negotiations, as
Rudolph M. Bell first pointed out in his seminal
work on anorexia nervosa and fasting, (1985)
followed by a plethora of studies in female
eating disorders.
With the commodification of food, eating
and food varieties, as well as access to food have
become symbols of empowerment and
powerlessness, which trigger the development of
a critical discourse covering two major areas –
the social and the geographical. Consequently, a
great number of authors show an interest in food
politics, a topic which can be defined with the
mixed vocabulary of economy and geography
(food industry, population growth, urban
expansion), politics (governmental agendas),
medicine (dietary principles), etc. Critiques of
globalization and the divides between various
geographical areas are offered in books entitled
polemically Food Politics (see, for example,
Nestle, 2007, or Paarlberg, 2010, but the list can
continue). Some scholars refer even to a
‗philosophy of food,‘ (Kaplan 2012) although
this abstract phrase seems contradictory, given
the fact that the senses and activities related to
eating have been traditionally considered too
‗low‘ and basic for a philosophical analysis.
More recently, food has become a topic of
fascination to the general public, evidenced by
the popularity of chefs – some of them as
Food studies – a success story
Until recently, there has been little interest
in this ‗material‘ subject (Belasco, 2008) – if we
follow the traditional body vs. mind divide –
because of the resilient prejudices of the 19th
century, which kept food in the separate, inferior
sphere of domesticity (and femininity). Along
the same lines, from a private subject, food has
become institutionalized when, in the 1960s and
1970s, more women enrolled in academic
research. Apart from being regarded as a
‗feminine‘ subject, food has also been (and still
is, sometimes) considered a mere trifle.
Traditional scholarship may still associate
the subject of food with triviality, but, in the past
ten to twenty years, various areas of research
have turned to food studies as an instrument
necessary in understanding the social, political,
and cultural dimension of societies in all periods
and geographical locations. Food is central in
today‘s explanatory discourses about warfare,
religion, political theory, industrialization, or
commerce, to name but a few. (Tannahill, 1988)
Food is at the same time one of the most
concrete manifestations of human life and also a
mentality, as it is defined in terms of preferences
and aversions, of pleasures and addictions.
According to Watson and Caldwell, (2005, 5)
food practices are involved in a rich network of
relationships and expectations that are contested
and negotiated, appearing in some of the most
enduring anthropological debates: ‗When all
else fails, people will always talk about food.‘
The success of food studies is explained
probably by their accessibility, as a means of
understanding cultures. Food, Counihan and
Van Esterik argue, (1997, 10) is nowadays as
much a scholarly as a real-life concern, while
the soaring interest in this subject is supported
by its interdisciplinary character. The attraction
of food for disciplines such as cultural studies
and literary criticism is justified by its symbolic
potential, its ability to convey meaning: it has a
rich alphabet with its diversity of colours,
textures, and flavours, and it communicates in
the numerous ways in which it can be processed
and combined.
The development of research interest in
food goes back to the early 20th century, in fact,
with anthropology as a pioneer. For example,
Marcel Mauss‘ theory of reciprocity (1967)
presented food-sharing in the 1920s as one of
192
famous and influential as film and music stars –
by the spectacularly high sales of cookbooks and
other food-related printed materials, and by the
invention of new television formats to
accommodate food shows, documentaries, and
live competitions.
Food studies are nowadays a part of the
academic discourse. Food is well placed at the
centre of material culture, as the most immediate
manifestation of consumption, which enables its
perception as a new and promising framework
for understanding social mechanisms. (Smith,
2002, 6) Much historical work in the area of
food studies focuses on periods starting from the
17th century, through the 18th, into the 19th and
the early 20th century, because the early modern
societies were the first to see clear changes in
consumption, in terms of consumer demand and
supply, but, more important, in terms of a
conceptual and behavioural twist as the
articulation of a variety of economic and cultural
factors simply made people want to consume
more. Among the objects that make up this new
material culture, foods and drinks, and the acts
of eating and drinking have meaning in several
contexts simultaneously, (Richardson 2011, 4)
becoming an important key to reading various
types of texts, from medicine to literature.
When it comes to tackling food-related
topics in literature, I argue that the theory which
is indirectly at work is Rolland Barthes‘ essay
on the functions of food. (in Counihan and Van
Esterik 1997:28-29) In Towards a Psychology of
Food Consumption, first published in 1961,
Barthes considers food to be more than a mere
collection of products, with statistical or
nutritional information; it is a system of
communication and a set of images or usages, a
combination of needs and techniques. Food has
a spirit, with flavour and substance, it is a
composite unit, like language. And just like
language, it has various functions. The somatic
or psychic function revolves around the concept
of health, signifying, materially, a set of
immaterial realities, underlying the body-mind
divide. The anthropological function refers to
feelings or moods attached to foodstuffs, as it is
possible to associate eating with images
connoting a variety of meanings. Finally, there
is the commemorative function, which is
employed by the plethora of fiction writers,
historians, researchers, and chefs who publish
extensive materials in the field of food studies.
According to Barthes, food permits a person to
partake each day of the natural past. Food
techniques (ingredients, recipes, utensils) often
have a historical quality, being repositories of
ancient experiences, of a wisdom which is
passed on from one generation to another. The
historical theme of cooking food evokes an
idealized world, a society which is invested with
aristocratic traits and elicits feelings of nostalgia
and escapist desires.
Eating in literature
This idealization and power are at work
when food appears in literary texts. Eating,
drinking, feasting and fasting are stable motifs
even in the earliest literature, from Homer‘s
Odyssey, to the early modern stories of Rabelais,
to Victorian children‘s literature, where food, as
a cultural signifier, plays a central role. In such
texts, food has a substantial influence on the plot
and the narrative, as well as on character
development and interactions.
Early epic poems are perfect illustrations
of the functions explained by Barthes.
Banqueting is a central notion in these
narratives, feast and war being two major
coordinates of archaic societies. Simplified
down to the most basic level, the social life of
such early communities has only two moments
of explosion, in between which lies a void. But
banqueting and battling, though opposite events,
are the strongest, most significant moments of
reference of personal and collective history. The
chronic fear of early societies – the anxiety of
solitude – can only be soothed with the complex
rituals of the two events, annihilating the
individual and promoting collective values.
Banqueting, like warfare, is the privilege of
noble men; no women or children and no
inferior castes are allowed in. Feasting, a
moment and practice of absolute grandeur,
builds solidarity and calls for massive
adherence, bringing about social order and
imposing a vital rhythm on the life of the
collectivity. The alternation of low-emotional
moments with periods of intense emotion is the
key to a good social life.
In Anglo-Saxon heroic narratives, like
Beowulf, life in the hall is the nucleus around
which all other positive and negative events are
grouped. It is the symbol of kingly power, as
well as the only space that can offer protection
from monsters, from the unknown, from the cold
outside, from hostile nature. In the banqueting
hall, where bread and the sweet beverage of
mead are shared, the most honourable values are
to be promoted. As a space of initiation, the hall
is also the place where, while eating and
drinking in excess, the youth is initiated to
193
manly life, which implies stamina, honour, and
solidarity. Banqueting contests are mock battles
that develop the competitive spirit and the desire
to win.
At the opposite end, controlling the
appetite and refraining from eating in solitude is
also common practice during the Middle Ages,
fasting being contextualized by religion.
Signaling the hatred of the flesh, extreme selfdiscipline, the power of the mind, fasting is
meant to tell saints apart from lay people since
the earliest centuries of Christianity (Brown
2008). The first saints, those hermits living in
the desert, an area that denied life and the human
by its very nature, give a powerful example of
what is actually implied by seclusion – a battle
not so much against sexuality as against the
belly. The saint‘s victory against hunger, in a
period of extreme poverty and prolonged severe
famines, becomes the most impressive symbol
for the collective imagination (2008, 232).
The image of humanity in a landscape
completely deprived of food is like a glimpse of
paradise for most ordinary people. To prove to
himself that instincts can be controlled, the
hermit has to resist the fearful state of
adiaphoria, the moment when the mind collapses
and the body starts wondering in the desert in
search of any herb or root that could comfort the
pains of the belly. No equilibrium is possible
unless this state is overcome. Fasting is,
therefore, the ultimate proof of the mind‘s
triumph over the body. Through systematic
fasting, the stomach shrinks and the blood
circulates more slowly, therefore, the body‘s
excessive dependence on food and sex
disappears forever. Refraining from eating
means, for the hermits, cooling off the bile,
cleaning the body, regulating moods, a necessity
for purge which will make a spectacular
comeback with the bulimics‘ laxative cures in
the late, consumerist 20th century. It has been
even argued that some medieval saints –
especially the female ones, like, for example,
Catherine of Siena or Clare of Assisi – were
anorexic. (Krugovoy Silver, 2002) Despite the
anachronism of terms and labels, what saints,
hermits and contemporary anorectics surely
have in common is the attempt to control food
intake for the sake of self-discipline and, as
Susan Bordo puts it, (1990, 83) for the
development of a ‗self,‘ be it a public one, like
in the classical Greek culture and probably
nowadays, or an inner one, for devoted
Christians.
In modern times, when literary texts
abound in food imagery, Victorianism seems to
have been the most concerned with feasting and
fasting, now turned into an ordinary eating
practice. While in Charlotte Brontë‘s novels, the
lack of appetite is a sign of romantic love or
female suffering, in Lewis Carroll‘s Alice’s
Adventures in Wonderland and Through the
Looking Glass, appetite is a dangerous thing.
Hunger is aggressive says Anne Krugovoy
Silver. (2002) Alice is a very greedy child,
eating and drinking everything she finds even if
she knows that unmarked jars and bottles might
contain poison and other dangerous or
unpleasant substances. Her constant hunger
endangers at times the life of animals in
Wonderland. Birds and mice almost get
drowned in the lake created by the huge tears
Alice sheds when she grows very tall after
swallowing the cake with ‗Eat me‘ beautifully
written in currants. The White Rabbit‘s servants
get injured when they try to get big Alice out of
their master‘s house, after she has drunk the
contents of a bottle. Eating and drinking without
control leads to disfigurement: Alice is now so
tiny that a dog could swallow her like a fly, now
so big that birds can make nests on her. Other
eating characters in Carroll‘s stories are
grotesque as well: the Duchess and her Cook in
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland or the King
who has to eat more sandwiches when he is
about to faint in Through the Looking Glass, for
instance.
In the end, Alice‘s maturation is
announced by her angry rejection of food. At the
banquet organized in honour of ‗queen‘ Alice,
the food develops a human personality, speaking
and walking and even attempting at devouring
the humans who were just about to engulf it.
Unable to put up with this chaos, Alice jumps on
her feet, seizes the table-cloth with both hands
and shouts: ‗I can‘t stand this any longer!‘
(Carroll 1995, 159) For Carroll, who kept
detailed journals of his own meals, small
appetite is a sign of maturation and wisdom.
Rejecting food for the first time in her life, Alice
is no longer a foolish child, but a responsible
woman, capable of taking good care of herself.
Rejecting food, she joins Elsie, Lacie and Tillie,
the three treacle-eating girls who are
representative for the culture of anorexia, which,
argues Anna Krugovoy Silver, (2002) is already
powerful in the Victorian period, with women
drinking vinegar or vomiting in order to
preserve their slim waist.
194
food as an important signifier of moral worth,
social status, and accomplishment in
housekeeping. Maggie Lane‘s Jane Austen and
Food (1995) gives such a cultural and historical
insight, while more recent volumes take
advantage of Austen‘s transformation into a pop
icon, advancing Austenian recipes (such as the
Wine-Roasted Gammon and Pigeon Pie or
Martha‘s Almond Cheesecake, Black 2002) or
even suggesting having tea with your favourite
Regency romance author. (Wilson, 2004) The
latter, who regales his readers with smells,
tastes,
and
flavours
throughout
his
Remembrance of Things Past, is an ideal pretext
for a literary history of fin de siècle food. (King,
2006) Significantly, Proust offers a recipe from
his childhood, Boeuf à la Mode, which he then
uses as a metaphor for the whole process of
writing a novel: individualities are constructed,
in fiction, out of numerous impressions, as the
famous Boeuf was made of carefully selected
bits of meats, enriched with jelly.
Food
histories
of
Shakespearean
inspiration, like Shakespearean criticism and
Shakespeare-based historical/cultural research in
general, have an already long tradition, one of
the first resources for 17th century recipes dating
back to 1976, in Madge Lorwin‘s Dining with
Shakespeare. The collection contains cooking
instructions in the original, Shakespearean
English, with translations into modern English
and measurement explanations, as well as the
first account of the culinary culture of
Elizabethan England. 13 full menus include
dishes associated with some of the Bard‘s most
famous characters. In the 2000s, the variety of
Shakespeare-inspired cookbooks is as vast as
any other branch of Shakespearean or
Renaissance studies. While Francine Segan
proposes ‗Renaissance recipes for the contemporary cook,‘ (2003) Mark Morton and Andrew
Coppolino (2008) write about table habits,
dining and festivities in the Elizabethan times
and plays, the chapters of the book being
divided by food type: mutton, lamb, fish and
seafood, vegetables, etc., and surveying early
modern cooking methods. An interesting theory
is advanced by Joan Fitzpatrick, (2007) who
considers the eating habits illustrated by the
Shakespearean text more relevant to the
contemporary mind than those of historical
periods closer to our own, but which are
mentally and symbolically more remote, because
of the Cartesian body/mind divide. Before the
18th century, dietaries looked strikingly similar
to 21st century nutrition guides, offering tips on
Food and new literary genres
‗Because all people eat and many people
cook, the meanings attached to food speak to
many more people than do the meanings
attached to more esoteric objects and practices,‘
write editors Carole Counihan and Penny Van
Esterik (1997, 8) in their introduction to the
collection of essential reading materials in food
studies. No wonder, then, that literary criticism
and history at their most serious have turned to
foodstuffs. A veritable boom in this academic
and popular subgenre in its own right can be
seen in the past ten to fifteen years in the
English-speaking world especially, though not
exclusively.
Currently, food in fictional texts
or literary studies is an independent theme, most
commonly evoked in the discursive and graphic
format of cookbooks. Kara Keeling and Scott
Pollard (2009, 21) explain the success of this
emerging genre in terms of its ability to add
sensory details to the original literary text,
‗offer[ing] a gustatory supplement to the
narrative‘ (2009, 21). The mass market effect of
the genre is that it capitalizes on the readers‘
interest in certain stories, characters, and
historical periods, or on the impact of certain
canonical writers on the public consciousness.
The variety of texts related to food is so
great nowadays that it would be quite a
challenge to attempt a classification. Still, for
the purposes of the present study, such an
attempt is necessary. Thus, an important
category is that of the cultural histories, which
are
scholarly endeavours
to
describe
domesticity, fashions and mentalities during
periods associated with iconic literary figures:
Shakespeare‘s early modern England or Jane
Austen‘s Regency. Secondly, there is the
pastiche, which combines the recipe format with
a certain writer‘s literary voice. Thirdly, there is
the popular category of literary cookbooks,
which offer, in a glossy format, recipes inspired
from the plot, characters and setting of
fashionable novels and TV series. By far the
most extensive category, this one has already
spawned a number of subgenres, the fantasy
cookbook being among the most conspicuous.
Scholarly examples include cultural
histories of eating, fashions and culinary choices
based on the literary proof offered by authors
like Jane Austen, Marcel Proust, etc. The
former, whose novels display domestic plots,
where the rituals of giving or sharing meals are
crucial, despite the scarcity of detailed
descriptions of foodstuffs and dishes, of material
things in general, acknowledges the function of
195
what men and women should eat and avoid,
mixing foodways with personality types. This
direction was, of course, carried along Galen‘s
humoural theory, inherited from the Middle
Ages, but, significantly, it displayed what we
take now for contemporary beliefs in
consumption patterns influenced by lifestyle, or
the conviction that diet and exercise are
important rules which should be strictly
observed.
The literary pastiche in the form of a
cookbook is another option for postmodernist
authors practicing a sort of literary
ventriloquism. Mark Crick‘s experiment,
entitled Kafka’s Soup (2005), goes beyond the
ingredients and methods, focusing on food as
text, as a language, as a system of signs, with
syntax and a style of its own. As a photographer
dissatisfied with traditional cookbooks, which,
he says, have nice pictures and dull texts, Crick
turns recipes into stories and also includes his
own visual projections of an ideal dish
presentation, illustrating the book with his own
photographs. Crick proposes 17 recipes written
in the style of 17 authors, from Homer and
Chaucer, to Italo Calvino and Thomas Mann.
All recipes can be tried out in the readers‘ own
kitchens, even if the instructions for Clafoutis
Grandmère à la Virginia Woolf begin like this:
‗She placed the cherries in a buttered dish and
looked out of the window. The children were
racing across the lawn, Nicholas already
between the clumps of red-hot pokers, turning to
wait for the others.‘ (2005, 60) and for
Vietnamese Chicken à la Graham Greene, like
this: ‗A recipe has no beginning or end:
arbitrarily one chooses at what point the cooking
instructions become necessary, after the butcher
has done his work and before care of the dish
passes to the seasoning whims of the guests. I
choose the moment when, looking into the
refrigerator, I noticed the naked white flesh of
the chicken. As I stared at the breasts I felt a
pain across my head‘ (2005, 70).
Literary pastiche with a tinge of parody,
written in an operatic tempo, Francesco Attardi
Anselmo and Elisa De Luigi‘s A Feast for Lady
Macbeth (1997, 2007) puts gastronomy on the
musical scales, reconciling Lasagna Verdi with
Stratford-upon-Avon Pork Pie, as the authors
themselves warn their readers in the Foreword
(2007, 4). The book is, firstly, an intertextual
exercise, bringing together two texts–
Shakespeare‘s Scottish play and the 19th century
Italian libretto for Verdi‘s opera Macbeth.
Secondly, it is a creative transfer from the
medium of the written, printed text to the oral
medium of the theatre, and then to the medium
of musical performance. Thirdly, it is an
example of postmodern imagination, as Attardi
Anselmo and De Luigi mimic the fashion in
today‘s popular literature of producing countless
prequels and sequels to the famous plots of
classical literature. This mock-prequel focuses
on young Lady Macbeth before marrying the
Scottish thane, as a girl accomplished in all
domesticity, raised by her mother to be a
housewife and an excellent cook, a connoisseur
of the most jealously guarded culinary secrets of
both the 17th and the 19th century (in a voluntary,
carefully planned act of anachronism).
The cookbook is organized on the
structural model of a play/libretto, with a list of
characters, prologue/overture, four acts,
intervals, and an epilogue. Each act includes
recipes instead of scenes, which begin on the
discursive model of culinary language (with a
list of ingredients), continue in the narrative
mode, retelling the plot, then mixing styles and
rhetoric (the thriller, literary criticism, musical
theory, a lesson, etc.), finishing, symmetrically,
with the imperative mood characteristic of
recipes and guidebooks. All this is seasoned
with short biographical notes about Shakespeare
and Verdi, literary commentaries about the
Bard‘s influence on the Italian composer, and
quotes. The epilogue, entitled The Castle Cellar,
provides advice on the selection of wines to use
when serving the great variety of dishes which
have been introduced and devoured, at least at
the level of the printed page. Instead of
Conclusions, the book offers a discographic
history of Verdi‘s opera.
An example: in Act One, Attardi Anselmo
and De Luigi come up with a subchapter/scene
entitled The Witch’s Beard (2007, 13-16). It
includes the story of the warriors‘ encounter
with the weird sisters, a historical and cultural
description of bearded women, a commentary on
the elegance and lyricism of the music Verdi
chooses in his opera to suggest the importance
of this moment in the economy of the entire
story, and a recipe for four persons, containing
anchovies and a salty chicory sauce. Or: The
Verdi Interval (2007, 43-44), under the pretext
of a recipe for Vol-Au-Vent alla Busseto,
describes the complicated process of selection
and creative intervention which is appropriation,
in this case, with a transfer from literature to
music. The chapter explains Verdi‘s fascination
with Shakespeare, using the support of
biographical evidence. Finally, the recipe for
196
five persons, adapted from the cuisine of Verdi‘s
native region (Busseto), evokes a courageous
combination between chicken organs, dried
mushrooms, onions, and local red wine. The
Elizabethan Interval offers glimpses into the
cultural history of Shakespeare‘s contemporaries
with contrasts between London and country life,
and with juicy details of theatre rivalry in the
late 16th century, as evidenced in the writings of
Robert Green or Shakespeare himself, in
pamphlets, letters, and diaries. The recipe for 10
persons is a genuine feast: spongecake, orange
brandy, raspberry jelly, cardamom powder, and
whipped cream.
Somewhere in between a serious
research project of cultural history and a popular
cookery collection, the attempts in the style
offered by Tea with Jane Austen, (2004) for
example, serve both an informative and an
entertainment purpose. Written by a curator of
Jane Austen‘s memorial house (Kim Wilson is
also the author of a book about Jane Austen in
the Garden, where she catalogues various types
of English gardens, from parks and groves, to
cottage gardens and Regency or Victorian
follies), Tea with Jane Austen looks at the social
practice of serving and taking tea during the
Regency and Victorian period, emphasizing the
important role tea played in the English everyday life. Each chapter looks at tea in a different
context: it presents moments of the day
associated with tea (not only the so-called 5
o‘clock tea, but breakfast and snacks and other
meals); it explains the function of tea in people‘s
lives, illustrating it with the help of excerpts
from Jane Austen‘s novels, her letters, and other
writings
of
the
Regency
author‘s
contemporaries. Tea evokes a place and a mood,
Wilson rightfully notices, (2004, 12) and the
success of the book resides in this very
achievement. Although the description of tea
parties plays a peripheral role in Austen‘s books,
the frequent evocation of food, eating, drinking,
and feasting transforms the phenomenon into a
substantial theme. It implies hospitality, sharing,
quality and refinement, fashion, manners, and
social convention. In addition, the charm of the
book resides in the presentation not only of tea
as a moment and a practice, but of ingredients
and equipment associated with tea (the ‗dining
parlour‘, a key room in any Regency or
Victorian household; the tea stand and table–
expensive pieces of furniture which add to the
value and impact of the tea-serving gesture, etc.)
Last but not least, the book offers several recipes
dating from Jane Austen‘s age, taken and
adapted from 18th and 19th century cookbooks
and private documents, recipes of food served
with tea, from delicious scones to toast with
good, rich, home-made butter.
Shakespeare-based cookbooks are, again,
a category that promises to dominate the market
being, at the same time, perfect illustrations of
the way in which food studies have been
embraced by history and literary criticism, at the
crossroads
between
experimentation,
appropriation, and marketing. This is the case of
the collaborative project of Elizabethan
performance historian Alycia Smith-Howard and
celebrated master chef Alan Deegan, The Food
of Love: A Shakespeare Cookbook. (2012)
Smith-Howard‘s share is the result of extensive
research into Elizabethan cookery books and a
re-reading of Shakespeare‘s plays, sonnets and
poems in search for food imagery, without the
support – which can often be deceptive and
second-hand – of regular concordances. This
creative investigation of the Shakespearean text
revealed thousands of references and led to the
finding that the play with the most abundant
culinary vocabulary is not Twelfth Night, which
lent its first line to the book‘s title, but The
Winter’s Tale, which contains probably the most
complete grocery shopping list of early
modernity available in a piece of literature:
‗CLOWN: I cannot do‘t without counters. Let
me see; what am I to buy for our sheepshearing
feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of
currants, rice […] I must have saffron to colour
the warden pies; mace, dates – none, that‘s out
of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of
ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes,
and as many raisins o‘ the sun‘ (WT, IV, 3, 3648).
Food fantasy and fancy recipes
The frequent juxtaposition of the cookery
book genre and the fantasy story is only
apparently forcé. In fact, both food studies and
fantastic literature are borderline territories, in
constant progress and change, enriched by other
genres and discourses, developing and widening
their scope every day. As far as literature is
concerned, in fact, there was a time when all
literature was fantasy, writes Peter S. Beagle in
the introduction to an anthology of fantastic
literature. (2010, 9) The fine line between
fantasy and ‗actual‘ literature has begun to
become thicker and thicker only in the last few
decades, with the development of a number of
subgenres and even sub-subgenres. It is hard to
pin down fantasy as a genre just as it is hard to
197
place the genre (or related genres and subgenres)
in an aesthetic hierarchy, according to
mainstream highbrow standards. In their attempt
to isolate the genre, many theorists have resorted
to the term employed by Brian Attebery in his
pioneering work on fantasy, a term borrowed
from the vocabulary of mathematics, ‗fuzzy set,‘
(Clute, Grant 1997, viii; Mendlesohn 2008, 183,
273; James and Mendlesohn, 2012, 2) meaning
that fantasy can be defined not by fixing
boundaries – which are fluid – but by analyzing
the most relevant examples.
Hence we observe the genre instability
which is recognized by all theorists. But while
some salute this crossing of boundaries,
considering it ‗an exhilarating development,
bringing with it a sense of breached ramparts
and undiscovered terrain‘ (Wolfe, 2011, 19) and
recommending fantasy as a fresh, postmodern
instance of interstitial art, which subverts genre
expectations and defies literary conventions,
others see this as the flaw of a fictional ‗area‘
which slips into the commercial and thus forfeits
the right to be regarded as a true genre (Beagle
2010, 10).
Returning to the cookbook fantasy, the
cross-gender literature which is so abundant in
bookshops and libraries today, it must be
observed that, quantitatively, one of the most
alluring categories is that of popular
impersonations of fantastic narratives as cookery
collections. A successful type is the cooking
guide addressed to children or to a teenager
audience, which dwell on the educational,
formative character of cookbooks. One of the
first attempts in this category is an A to Z guide
by the author of the Mary Poppins series, P.L.
Travers (1975, 2006). Mary Poppins in the
Kitchen. A Cookery Book with a Story first starts
from the assumption that the mere, plain
discourse of recipes is too technical and not
narrative enough to recommend especially to the
younger segment of the public (hence, the
‗kitchen with a story‘). Then, explaining in
simple terms how to prepare such foodstuffs as
the Topsy-Turvy Cake, the Very Plain Cake, or
the Queen of Puddings, the book offers its
readers a tour through the lives of the Banks
family and children (plus the famous nanny) via
a week‘s menu and a week‘s stay in the kitchen,
rather than in the nursery or the park. The
book‘s declared purpose is that of making
cooking fun to children who can, thus, grow
more cooperative and more responsible in the
family and around the household.
In the 2010s, Marry Poppins is no longer
the dernier cri. But Harry Potter is. So an
‗unofficial guide‘ to the fantasy world of the
Muggles and Hogwarts foods and dishes is the
best way to continue the Harry Potter craze in
other ways than cinema, comics and clothes
industry. The Harry Potter Cookbook proposes
one hundred and fifty imaginative recipes that
take the readers through everyday family meals,
celebratory school meals, and party snacks, with
a pinch of magic. Author Dinah Bucholz (2010)
combines cookery, herbology, and divination in
order to attract the younger public, while
admitting that her project is mainly supposed to
carry an educational message. Today‘s children,
accustomed more (if not only) with pizzas,
burgers and fizzy drinks, may feel attracted to a
world of food which looks fantastic, but is, in
fact, quite traditional and… healthy. The book
teaches Harry Potter fans how to cook (and eat)
plain British dishes, unknown to children in
most of the countries where the book has been
translated, such as Black Pudding, Kidney Pie or
Trifles. Food is an essential ingredient in J.K.
Rowlings‘ novels, her frequent references to
eating and drinking, to breakfasts and snacks,
being an attempt to make the readers literally
‗taste‘ the fantasy and ‗smell‘ the wizards‘
world. Starting from the rather common
metaphor of the ‗alchemy‘ of the oven and the
‗magic‘ which transforms raw ingredients into
savoury treats, Dinah Bucholz invites readers to
explore the possibility to transform the mundane
into a masterpiece (literary and/or culinary).
Sharing the fantastic scenario with the
Harry Potter cookbook but lacking the
educational dimension (since it is not designed
for children and teenager audiences), ‗the
(cook)book of ice and fire‘ based on George
R.R. Martin‘s Game of Thrones pushes culinary
fantasy even further. Chelsea Monroe-Cassel
and Sariann Lehrer offer an ‗official‘ cooking
companion to a medieval world of rituals and
traditions.
After
substantial
historical
investigation, in which the authors consulted
books of cookery dating from Roman times, the
Middle Ages, and the Elizabethan period, they
offer a combination between familiar and exotic,
in an attempt to turn fiction into an edible
reality. They manage to bring back to life, under
the pretext of offering a background to George
R.R. Martin‘s fantasy, tastes, images, and
sounds the contemporary reader is no longer
accustomed with. Ingredients, spices and tools
become part of a metadiscourse engendered by
the kitchen atmosphere. Meat recipes evoke the
198
extinct bovine species of the aurochs, the
readers‘ palate is challenged by the long-gone
flavour of ‗pudre douce‘ (a common medieval
spice mix for beverages, somewhat similar to
cinnamon), while modern cooking recipients are
put to shame by the ageless earthenware, which
enrich the taste and allure of the dishes with the
combined flavour of folklore and magic.
But the ultimate example is the immersion
of the cookery writing style in the TV format.
Re-writing a book in the form of a recipe is, in
the end, still a possible version of textual
intervention. When a TV series that has gained
millions of followers produces a variant for the
kitchen, this is (still) a less ordinary experience.
Such is the case of a Dr. Who cookbook, entitled
Dining with the Doctor (Oseland 2012), which
renounces any claim of sophistication, declaring
itself, from the very ‗Introduction,‘ a typical
mass market product, like the series it is inspired
from, when the motto-sentence is the matter-offact (though slightly alliterative) statement that
‗Cookbooks are cool.‘ The book offers one
recipe for each whovian episode, with formal
and informal meals, recipes for parties and
solitary snacks alike. With 18 beverages, 20
recipes for vegetarians and even a few for low
carb dieters, the cookbook seems to cater for all
tastes, literally. The names of the dishes remain
in the commercial register: Cinnamon Pull Apart
Crack in the Wall, Pond‘s Wedding Punch, or
Marble Cucumber Circuits with Vesuvian Fire
Dipping Sauce.
References
Attardi and De
Luigi 2007
Beagle 2010
Belasco 2008
Bell 1985
Black 2002
Bordo 1990
Brown 2008
Conclusions
Peculiar
instances
of
cultural
appropriation, the literary cookbooks also bring
evidence to a new mode of consumption. The
text of fiction is dissected, with tools that once
belonged to deconstructivism, and then enriched
with styles, objects and formats outside the
predictable confines of literature. Since food
studies are, in themselves, a mélange of
disciplines, discourses, academic tendencies and
fashions, this new model of cookbooks is
always, and necessarily, the result of a
morganatic union, like so many other products
of contemporary culture: elitist and popular,
vintage and futuristic, nostalgic and parodic,
commemorative and iconoclastic, good and bad
to eat and to think, to paraphrase a food
anthropologist (Harris 1998).
Bucholz 2010
Carroll 1995
Clute and
Grant 1997
199
Attardi
Anselmo,
Francesco, Elisa De Luigi,
Reţetele celebrei Lady
Macbeth.
Verdi
şi
Shakespeare în bucătărie.
Translation into Romanian
by Raluca Niţă, Bucharest,
House of Guides, 2007.
Beagle, Peter S., The Secret
History of Fantasy, San
Francisco, Tachyon Publications, 2010.
Belasco, Warren, Food.
The Key Concepts, Oxford,
New York, Berg, 2008.
Bell, Rudolph, M. Holy
Anorexia, Chicago and
London, University of
Chicago Press, 1985.
Black, Maggie, The Jane
Austen Cookbook, McClelland and Stewart, 2002.
Bordo, Susan, ‗Reading the
Slender Body,‘ in M.
Jacobus, E. Keller, S.
Shuttleworth (eds.), Body
Politics. Women and the
Discourses of Science, New
York
and
London,
Routledge, 1990.
Brown, Peter, The Body
and Society: Men, Women
and Sexual Renunciation in
Early Christianity, New
York, Columbia Classics in
Religion, 2008.
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Dinah,
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Cookbook [From Cauldron
Cakes to Knickerbocker
Glory – More Than 150
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Carroll, Lewis, Alice in
Wonderland, Hertfordshire,
Wordsworth
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Clute, John, John Grant,
The
Encyclopedia
of
Fantasy, New York, St.
Martin‘s Griffin, 1997.
Counihan and
Van Esterick
1997
Crick 2005
Deegan and
Smith-Howard
2012
Fitzpatrick
2007
James and
Mendelsohn
2012
Kaplan 2012
Keeling and
Pollard 2009
King 2006
Krugovoy
Silver 2002
Lane 1995
Mauss 1967
Counihan, Carole, Penny
Van Esterik (eds.), Food
and Culture: A Reader,
New York and London,
Routledge, 1997.
Crick, Mark, Kafka’s Soup:
A Complete History of
World Literature in 14
Recipes, Orlando, Harcourt
Books, 2005.
Deegan,
Alan,
Alycia
Smith-Howard, The Food
of Love: A Shakespeare
Cookbook,
Glasbury-onWye, Graficas Books,
2012.
Fitzpatrick, Joan, Food in
Shakespeare:
Early
Modern Dietaries and the
Plays. London, Ashgate,
2007.
James, Edward, Farah
Mendlesohn (eds.), The
Cambridge Companion to
Fantasy
Literature,
Cambridge,
Cambridge
Kaplan, David M. (ed.),
The Philosophy of Food,
Berkeley, Los Angeles,
University of California
Press, 2012.
Keeling, Kara K., Scott T.
Pollard,
Critical
Approaches to Food in
Children’s Literature, New
York, London, Routledge,
2009.
King, Shirley, Dining with
Marcel Proust: A Practical
Guide to French Cuisine of
the Belle Epoque, Lincoln
and London, University of
Nebraska Press, 2006.
Krugovoy Silver, Ann,
Victorian Literature and
the
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Body,
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Cambridge
Lane, Maggie, Jane Austen
and Food, London, The
Hambledon Press, 1995.
Mauss, Marcel, The Gift:
Forms and Functions of
Exchange
in
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Societies (1967), Norton
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2008
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and Deutsch
2009
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and Lehrer
2012
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Coppolino2008
Nestle 2007
Oseland 2012
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Richardson
2011
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Shakespeare
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Jeff,
Jonathan
Deutsch. Food Studies,
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2009.
Monroe-Cassel, Chelsea,
Sariann Lehrer, George
R.R. Martin’s A Game of
Thrones. A Feast of Ice and
Fire. The Official Cooking
Companion, New York,
Bantam Books, 2012.
Morton, Mark, Andrew
Coppolino, Cooking with
Shakespeare,
Westport,
Greenwood, 2008.
Nestle, Marion, Food Politics: How the Food
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Berkeley, Los Angeles,
London, University of
California Press, 2007.
Oseland,
Chris-Rachel,
Dining with the Doctor:
The Unauthorized Whovian
Cookbook (2012), Amazon
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edition.
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Politics: What Everyone
Needs to Know, Oxford,
Oxford University Press,
2010.
Richardson,
Catherine,
Shakespeare and Material
Culture, Oxford, Oxford
Segan,
Francine,
Shakespeare’s
Kitchen.
Renaissance Recipes for
the Contemporary Cook,
New
York,
Toronto,
Random House, 2003.
Shakespeare,
William
(David Bevington, ed.),
The Comedies, New York
and
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Longman, 2012.
Smith 2002
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Watson and
Caldwell 2005
Smith, Woodruff D., consumption and the Making
of Respectability, 16001800. New York and
London, Routledge, 2002.
Tannahill, Reay, Food in
History, New York, The
Rivers Press, Random
Hous, 1988.
Travers,
P.L.,
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Cookery Book with a Story,
London and New York,
Harcourt, 1975- 2006.
Watson, James L., Melissa
L. Caldwell, The Cultural
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Wilson 2004
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Xu 2008
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Eating, Oxford, Blackwell,
2005.
Wilson, Kim, Tea with
Jane Austen, London,
Frances Lincoln, 2004.
Wolfe,
Gary
K.
Evaporating
Genres.
Essays
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Literature,
Middletown,
Wesleyan University Press,
2011.
Xu,
Wenying,
Eating
Identities. Reading Food in
Asian American Literature.
Honolulu, University of
Hawaii Press, 2008.
Andrei Codrescu and the/His New Scheherazade
Rodica GRIGORE
Associate Professor, PhD, ‗Lucian Blaga‘ University of Sibiu, Romania
E-mail: rodica.grigore@gmail.com
Abstract. Andrei Codrescu, Romanian-born American writer, is well-known for his books of
fiction or non-fiction based either on his personal experience as an exile or on a profound understanding
of literature. His novels express a permanent fascination for reading and re-reading the great works of
literature before him, in his particular case, the act of reading always meaning an original interpretation of
‗the great books‘. Nevertheless, Codrescu did not limit himself at this stage, implying a complicated
strategy of masking (or unmasking), and the author includes, therefore, in his texts, some personal
memories or personal symbols in order to be (or to become) himself a part of the narration and one of its
key-notes. Dreams, consciousness, imagined realities, make up the existence of the narrative voice of
Codrescu‘s latest book, Whatever Gets You through the Night, since the author himself is conceived as an
imagined personality that has taken on an actual reality.
Key words: reality, imagination, fiction, mask, interpretation
imagine‘ (1). The most important stage within
this process is, of course, to dream insistently
and to perform all the daily duties but living,
simultaneously, in the imagination, that is,
traveling far and wide in the geography of
minds. And even if the philosophical content of
his book is not perfectly defined, Codrescu may
as well call it an ‗aestheticism of abdication,‘ for
only freedom offers the possibility of isolation
which is necessary for complete solitude. The
author‘s expression of disengagement and
solitude then is not a form of eccentricity, but
consists of dreaming. Of course, dreaming of
literature here might be called ‗imagination‘
when reflective, ‗visualization‘ when deliberate
or just ‗fantasy‘ when contrived for our aesthetic
sensibility. So the author gathers landscapes and
people in a perpetual state of ‗dreaming‘, thus
substituting the dreariness of real counterparts.
As far as Codrescu is concerned, as well as the
narrative voice of his book, dreams are the
perfect landscape of solitude, for dreaming is the
only paradigm of understanding.
The Thousand and One Nights (also
known as The Arabian Nights) is, as Borges
often said, the book as universe: an endless
realm of magical wonders and urban low life,
For the narrative voice in Andrei
Codrescu‘s Whatever Gets You through the
Night: A Story of Sheherezade and the Arabian
Entertainments, (Princeton University Press:
2011), imagination proves more than an escape
from the tedium of quotidian reality; rather
dreams are creations of an alternate reality, an
ideal to be controlled and manipulated, but left
to occupy the abstract realm of imagination
because it is from this ideality that the writer
derives more satisfaction. Unlike the Romantics,
implicitly criticized for their rejection of actual
life for a fantastic (or not) super-reality, he does
not deny his actuality nor does he dismiss it as
dissatisfying. In other words, he ‗inter-exists‘,
stressing that his imagined reality (the ideal) is
truer than his actual one. He does not challenge
the reality of his actuality, but merely challenges
the dismissive assumption that dreams are not
‗real‘.
More in an attitude of reverie than one of
rejection or escape, he confesses to himself that
he is unable to discount the reality and vitality of
what he imagines. His dreams are no less
substantial than his reality, though different.
Objects and people have a life of their own in
the imagination. In fact, as Richard Zenith put it
discussing Pessoa‘s work, ‗the only way to
survive in this world is by keeping alive our
dream, without ever fulfilling it, since the
fulfillment never measure up to what we
(1) Richard Zenith, Introduction, in The Book of
Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa, New York, Penguin
Books, 2001, p. XXIII.
202
palaces and harems, genies, princesses, and
monsters. The work is full of heroic, self-reliant
women, outlandish adventures, and sciencefictional marvels (a flying horse, a city of brass).
The reader who only recalls Ali Baba or Aladdin
will be surprised by the puzzle-like nestling of
the stories, which are interlinked in ingenious
ways. One tale leads to another; characters often
tell their stories in order to ward off death (as
Scheherazade does); coincidences multiply
fiendishly. Ordinary life seems governed by
marvelous laws, and sometimes supernaturally
dreadful ones. This is the world‘s best-known
collection of stories, and the most popular. It
might be ‗the most-read book in English after
the Bible and Shakespeare, but it has a different
kind of familiarity than those canonical works‘
(1). What we remember from the Nights is not
high eloquence, intellect or faith, but a handful
of characters and scenes: the shrewd Ali Baba
spying on the gang of thieves, resourceful
Aladdin with his lamp, and Scheherazade herself
spinning tale after tale in order to survive.
Borges, who read the work many times from
childhood on, and found in it a model for the
storyteller‘s art, memorably observed that ‗One
knows that entering the book one can forget
one‘s poor human fate‘ (2).
But these tales also display a profound
fear of the sexual powers of women. This fear
provides the starting point for Andrei
Codrescu‘s brisk retelling of the Nights’ frame
story. Of course, it is a completely ironic one,
the title itself suggesting this. His book is
entitled Whatever Gets You through the Night: A
Story of Sheherezade and the Arabian
Entertainments. Codrescu has been preceded in
this direction not just by Borges, but also by
Italo Calvino, John Barth, and Salman Rushdie
among others; nevertheless he is not discouraged
being, at his best moments, a splendid
entertainer and a thought-provoking analyst,
ready to tease out each witty twist and turn of
Scheherazade‘s nightly work.
Besides the Arabic frame, the most
important themes of Codrescu‘s book are
introspection, solitude, estrangement, all
characterized at times by a droll sense of tedium
and lethargy, exquisitely expressed. The author
creates, a sort of geography of self-awareness, in
order to construct a form of aesthetic
contemplation of life; and this new aesthetic
survives the collapse of all philosophies and
metaphysics, a new form of modernist
Epicureanism and at the same time a sort of
postmodern cynicism.
In this book, ordinary life is recounted
only by dreaming, by the exercise of
imagination, by inhabiting the confirmable
world of subjectivity. The narrative voice
implies having lived a life that proves to be an
original expression of human loss, sometimes
even reflecting upon his condition. Of course,
the reader might recognize some echoes of
Codrescu‘s favorite writers: Epicureans, Stoics
and Cynics. Andrei Codrescu is not at all a
Romantic thinker, for he decidedly disparages
the Romantic impulse (the excessive emotions,
the naïve clinging to the impossible, the
confusion between need and desire). He often
expresses the conviction that consciousness
tolerates no illusion and therefore metaphysics
might be considered exhausted, in the sense that
some of the most important postmodern authors
also state. Besides, it is not a life of
sensuousness that he is proposing, but rather a
life of observation and of awareness of the
powers (or, better said, potentialities!) of
literature.
Codrescu spends much time on a rendition
of the Nights’ frame story, which concerns
preparations for the initial meeting of
Scheherazade and her king Sharyar. He greatly
extends the opening quest, when Sharyar and his
brother Shahzaman, both of them kings
spectacularly cuckolded by their wives, travel
the world in an effort to find a still more
powerful man who has been defeated by a
woman. They meet a huge demon who tries and
fails to keep his wife captive in a glass box. The
Arabian Nights is haunted by female sexuality
and sneakiness. Women‘s ability to run rings
around male efforts to corral them comes up
again and again: royal wives rarely pass up the
chance for some brisk erotic exercise with their
handsome Moorish slaves. Asceticism doesn‘t
help. Codrescu is acute on Sharyar‘s rejection of
philosophy, proffered by a hermit as the cure for
his ills. ‗‘I am not seeking an answer!‘ he said
proudly, ‗but a being more powerful than I
betrayed as I was‘ (3). Then he adds, to the
(1) David Mikics, Seduction Unending, ‗The New
Republic‘, July 25, 2011.
2
( ) Jorge Luis Borges, Selected Non-Fictions, edited
by Eliot Wernberger, translated by Ester Allen,
Suzanne Jill Levine and Eliot Weinberger,
Penguin Books, 1999, p 234.
(3) Andrei Codrescu, Whatever Gets You through the
Night: A Story of Sheherezade and the Arabian
Entertainments, Princeton University Press, 2011,
p. 21.
203
miserable anchorite: ‗Wisdom is depressing, a
form of inaction. You‘re an old man, brother‘
(1).
When Scheherazade steps in, she acts to
save the virgins of the kingdom, who are rapidly
being depleted by the king‘s murderous ways. (It
is hard to avoid thinking of the biblical Book of
Esther, which of course has been known to the
authors of the Nights, though Codrescu‘s
Scheherazade outshines even Esther in her savvy
manipulation of the king!) Her father the Vizier
tries to dissuade her, but she heroically insists on
going in to Sharyar, confident that she has a way
to survive. And she does: her immense talent for
tale-telling, which far overpowers the despot‘s
deadly whim. ‗When she appears, like the Genie
in the bottle of literature that she is, we must
obey the order of her stories,‘ Codrescu writes.
Instead of controlling this woman, Sharyar
wants to be held captive, kept in suspense night
after night. (Scheherazade‘s stories usually
break off in the middle with the coming of
dawn, to be resumed the next night.)
The book expresses the possibility of
literature offering a mode of simultaneous
existence within one‘s imagination and in
reality. Therefore, Whatever Gets You through
the Night may be regarded as well as some kind
of ‗fact-less autobiography‘ (2) (as the
Portuguese writer Fernando Pessoa described his
own Book of Disquiet ), a kind of diary or
journal that records not so much events or
people, but certain ideas and musings, being
centered upon Codrescu‘s own literary
obsessions. More than this, the author
complicates here the idea of fictionality, by
stressing that his narrator‘s personality in this
book is not his own and yet is not completely
different. Codrescu writes sometimes of
plurality and otherness, stressing that he himself
is both and neither, seemingly repeating
Pessoa‘s assertion: ‗Each of us is various, is
many, a prolixity of ourselves!‘ (3). The
juxtaposition of Codrescu‘s actuality with his
narrative voice‘s imagined reality or the
conjunction of details of the author‘s actual
biographical life with similar details of the
fictional narrator‘s imagined life reveals a most
exquisite example of irony in Codrescu‘s work.
But all the similarities between the two lives are
precisely what maintained the distance between
them, specifically by means of irony, one of the
most important stylistic devices used here by
Andrei Codrescu.
Codrescu is a great fan of Richard Burton
and writes similarly expansive footnotes, even if
without Burton‘s salacious peculiarities; and his
delight in his source text is contaminating. One
wishes that he had tackled some of the other
parts of the Nights, such as the mysteriously
perfect tale of Jullanar of the Sea (which
inspired Hans Christian Andersen), or the
dizzying, hilarious Hunchback cycle. By the end
of Codrescu‘s book, the author fully convinced
his readers of his perfect capacity of creating
numberless jeux d’esprit clever and exquisitely
constructed, but always diverting.
‗With a few exceptions such as Naguib
Mahfouz, who paid homage to the tales of
Scheherazade in his novel Arabian Nights and
Days, the Arabian Nights has had a mixed
reception from many Arab readers‘4, as David
Mikics
perfectly
underlined
reviewing
Codrescu‘s book. Its style is often deemed low
and crude, its content immoral. Its true home has
been the West, ever since 1701-1717, when
Antoine Galland translated it into French.
Galland inaugurated the discipline of
Orientalism in 1697 with his massive
Bibliothèque Orientale. In this encyclopedia of
Islamic culture, he emphasized the richness of
Arabic writing and the high achievements of
Arab society. He was the first in a long line of
admirers of the Middle East: another of them,
Edward Lane, produced an English version of
the Arabian Nights in 1838-1841, and
supplemented it with a rich treasury of footnotes
on Arab life and culture. When Galland
translated the Nights, the Ottomans had recently
put Vienna under siege. The Muslim world was
not an underdeveloped region, but a still mighty
empire.
The next translator of the Nights, after
Galland and Edward Lane, was the most famous
of all. When Richard Burton embarked on the
stupendous task of turning the book into
English, he was known as an unparalleled
master of Eastern languages and a courageous
African explorer – and most of all as the
reckless adventurer who had penetrated Mecca
disguised as a Muslim pilgrim. Impulsive and
self-thwarting, he had the physical endurance of
a Greek hero, and was an equally heroic scholar.
(1) Ibid, p. 22.
(2) Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, edited
and translated by Richard Zenith, New York,
Penguin Books, 2001, p. 3.
(3) Ibid., p. 176.
204
None of his fellow Victorians could match his
learning for its scope and originality. Burton
published his Arabian Nights translation in
sixteen volumes between 1885 and 1888, and it
was a wild success.
If literary critics often discussed irony and
its negative implications in Codrescu‘s previous
works, the negation that the writer deploys
within this book is often a sign of affirmation.
Andrei Codrescu, after all, initiates the
discussion of irony with a positive definition
when he says irony is the first indication that the
consciousness has become conscious. Whereas
Socrates, to quote Kierkegaard, brought the
subjective self into existence in response to
external conditions such as state pressure for
communal thought, Codrescu, following the
great example of Fernando Pessoa, soars above
his immediate surroundings, even his corporeal
grounding, into the realm of the tangible, the
imagination. Dreams, consciousness, imagined
realities, make up the existence of the narrative
voice of this book. Indeed, at times the author
himself appears as being only a dream, an
imagined personality become reality and an
instantiation
of
a
poet‘s
conscious
consciousness. But Codrescu, however, seems to
invert the process of ironic Socratic dialectic; he
does not need Socrates to strip his life bare of
immediacy and even corporeality in order to get
him to breathe ethereal air. Instead, the author of
Whatever Gets You through the Night is quite
literally half in the immediate, the real, and half
in the ‗mediate‘, the imagined, since he is only
half himself. He leaps from imagined sunset to
imagined love, asserting a reality he knows he
does not have. In this way, he (again, like
Pessoa)
consciously
un-knows
himself,
revealing in the ‗poetry of the twilight of
disillusion.‘
In this context, the role of the reader
becomes crucial above all for the playing out of
the irony that suspends Codrescu‘s use of
literary masks. Irony creates the distance
necessary for these authors to create themselves
and express everything poetically; but irony also
requires a reader in order to initiate the chase for
meaning and understanding. According to
Kierkegaard, the pseudonyms were more
embodiments of ideas or ideals, rather than
‗real‘ or ‗actual‘ people (1), the extent to which
Codrescu will take his masks, functioning as
some kind of pseudonyms. Kierkegaard
designates the pseudonyms as ‗poetically actual
subjective thinkers‘; their purpose is, therefore,
to ‗poetically‘ represent different points of view
or life-views or ideal possibilities which readers
may analyze and then adapt depending on
whether or not may help in the process of
becoming or shaping selfhood. Kierkegaard‘s
pseudonyms and the ideals they represent are
not merely a game of choices for the reader, but
an ethically guided pathway towards truth. For
this reason, Kierkegaard needed the distance of
irony to keep his own views and personality as
far from his pseudonyms as possible in order to
allow the reader to see their stage of
understanding the existence and not his own.
And whereas Kierkegaard defined and mastered
the use of irony, Codrescu lives it. The writer‘s
challenge is to the entire literary, psychological
and sociological world. Just as Kierkegaard
shows that certain concepts are inassimilable
into any system, Andrei Codrescu posits that the
self is similarly indefinable. In fact, Codrescu
himself does not let his secrets be revealed, as he
is both none and all of his masks or narrative
instances. In his particular way, the writer
offered the reader a fictional rendering of the
aesthetic life that shows its logical end; after all,
for Codrescu, Kierkegaard‘s existence spheres
provide a vehicle to express multiple and even
contradictory truths about the self and about the
difficult and tiresome struggle that leads to
complete and authentic existence. Whereas
Kierkegaard left his philosophical posterity with
numerous clues and delineations of what has
come to be known as his philosophy of self,
Codrescu, showing a pleasure of masking
(himself), not only embedded his ‗philosophy‘
in his literature, but he lived it as well, the
material of his mask being fabricated of the
nothingness of his own irony.
In the Arabian Nights, the quest finds you
unexpectedly: you are, and always will be,
unready for it. Borges was fond of ‗The Two
Dreamers,‘ the tale of a poor man in Baghdad
who dreams of a fortune in Cairo. He journeys
there, and he is imprisoned and beaten. When he
recounts his dream, his jailor laughs and says: ‗I
had a similar dream: there‘s a house in Baghdad,
with a garden, and a fountain, and a buried
treasure is there.‘ From the jailor‘s description,
the poor man recognizes the house as his own,
(1) Richard M. Summers, ‘Controlled Irony’ and the
Emergence of the Self in Kierkegaard’s
Dissertation, in vol. ‗International Kierkegaard
Commentary: The Concept of Irony‘, ed. Robert
L. Perkins, Macon, Mercer University Press,
2001, pp. 289-316.
205
and hastens back to it: he finds the treasure in
his own backyard, just as the jailor envisioned.
‗And this was a wonderful coincidence,‘ the
story concludes (in Lane‘s version). Pity the
jailor: the eternal straight man, imprisoned by
his disdain for illusion. In this tale, reality and
dream become two halves of a strange whole,
and one life answers the riddle of another.
Whether you have spent your time dreaming or
soaking up reality, you remain subject to this
uncanniest of laws. David Mikics discusses
another aspect regarding Codrescu‘s book and
the long history of the Arabian Nights: namely
that ‗the Breslau manuscript of the Arabian
Nights concludes with Night 602, when
Scheherazade begins telling her own story‘ (1).
Borges, meditating on this remarkable conceit,
makes it still more remarkable: he says that
Scheherazade, when she reaches the 602nd night
must tell the whole chain of stories over again,
touching her own existence at the center of the
vast skein. Like her listeners, she is sentenced to
fiction, and the wonders never cease. This is
exactly the situation Codrescu embody within
his own book. In writing in his particular
manner, he did, therefore, more than having
recorded his own ‗experiences of dissociation.‘
He diagnosed a condition that has become
widespread in the field of contemporary
literature: a new kind of self-consciousness
combined with a lack of any fixed view of the
external world.
Expressing an exquisite sensibility, Andrei
Codrescu retreated into himself and behind the
masks or narrative instances he himself created
only to find doubt about himself and the world
and also to express his belief in the potentialities
of literature.
References
Mikics, David, Seduction
Mikics,
Unending, ‗The New Republic‘,
2011
July 25, 2011.
Books:
Borges
1999
Codrescu
2011
Pessoa
2001
Borges, Jorge Luis, Selected NonFictions,
edited
by
Eliot
Wernberger, translated by Ester
Allen, Suzanne Jill Levine and
Eliot Weinberger, Penguin Books,
1999.
Codrescu, Andrei, Whatever Gets
You through the Night: A Story of
Sheherezade and the Arabian
Entertainments,
Princeton
Pessoa, Fernando, The Book of
Disquiet, edited and translated by
Richard Zenith, New York,
Penguin Books, 2001.
Chapters in books:
Summers, Richard M., ‘Controlled
Robert
Irony’ and the Emergence of the
L.
Self in Kierkegaard’s Dissertation,
Perkins
in ‗International Kierkegaard
(ed.)
Commentary: The Concept of
2001
Irony‘, ed. Robert L. Perkins,
Macon, Mercer University Press,
2001.
206
B. REVIEWS AND SCIENTIFIC ACTIVITY
207
Corporate Governance (*)
Oana ALBESCU
PhD Candidate, International Relations and European Studies
‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University of Cluj, Romania
E-mail: oanaalbescu@yahoo.com
Christine1A. Mallin‘s book brings into the
reader‘s attention the interesting and contemporary topic of the corporate governance, ‗an
integral part of everyday business life, in order
to provide an understanding of the development
of corporate governance over the last two
decades‘, as the author argues.
The work is divided into four parts and
fourteen chapters, evaluating in minute details
both theoretical aspects of corporate governance
and empirical case studies.
The first part of the book introduces the
reader to the theoretical aspects of the corporate
governance, gathering valuable assumptions
about theories associated with the development
of corporate governance, such as agency theory,
separation of ownership and control, transaction
cost economics, stakeholder and stewardship
theories. The author approaches the issue of the
growth in corporate governance codes, with
reference to the Cadbury Report, ‗which has
influenced the development of many corporate
governance codes globally‘. To illustrate the
corporate governance codes that have been most
influential globally, there are discussed and
rigorously analyzed the Organization for
Economic Co-operation and Development,
International Corporate Government Network,
Global Corporate Governance Forum.
The second part of the book reveals the
character and the importance of the stakeholders
and the shareholders, taking into account the fact
that ‗the corporate objective is generally to
maintain or enhance shareholder value, while
the impact of the company‘s activities on its
other stakeholders must be taken into account
when deciding the strategy to be developed for
achieving these goals‘. Ch. Mallin highlights the
importance of the domain of socially responsible
investment, asserting the fact that ‗in recent
years, there has been an increasing awareness of
socially responsible investment issues, (…), and
this have, in many cases, become an integral part
1
of corporate governance policies, both of
individual companies and of institutional
investors‘. Engagement, preference
and
screening describe the main strategies for
socially responsible investment, provided by the
Ethical Investment Research Service.
The third part challenges reader to
approach the board structure of a company,
encompassing ‗the function of a board and its
sub-committees, the roles, duties, and
responsibilities of directors, and the attribution
and contribution of a non-executive‘. The author
brings into discussion some critical distinctions
between unitary board, ‗responsible for all
aspects of the company‘s activities‘ and dual
board, ‗consisting of a supervisory board and an
executive board of management‘.
The last part of the book provides an
analytical and in-depth study of the international
corporate governance, gathering empirical
observations and studies related to corporate
governance in Continental Europe, Central and
Eastern Europe, Asia-Pacific, South Africa,
India, Brazil. These studies evaluate the
prerequisites of the corporate governance in
certain countries, with the theoretical
instruments described in the previous chapters.
In Germany for example, ‗the business type tend
to be either public or private companies limited
by share. The German corporate governance
system is based around a dual board system,
which comprises a management board and a
supervisory board.‘
Mixture of theoretical and practical
dimensions of corporate governance, this book
should be read in the context of ‗global financial
crisis, corporate scandals and collapses and
public concern over the apparent lack of
effective boards and perceived excessive
executive remuneration packages‘. With
reference to all these, Mallin‘s work is
successfully illustrating ‗the importance of
corporate governance to the company itself, to
directors, shareholders and other stakeholders,
and to the wider business community‘.
(*) A review of Corporate Governance (by Christine
A. Mallin), Third Edition, published at Oxford
University Press, 2010, 357 p. [ISBN 978-0-19956645-7].
208
The Recent History Otherwise: Cultural Perspective
Olga GRĂDINARU
PhD Student, ‗Babeş-Bolyai‘ University of Cluj, Romania
E-mail: olgagradinaru@gmail.com
The starting point of the volume The
Recent History Otherwise: Cultural Perspectives
(Iaşi, Editura Universităţii ‗Al. I. Cuza‘, 2013) is
different from those we are used with, being
indeed ‗otherwise‘ than other books focused on
the history of the 20th century. As the editors
Andi Mihalache and Adrian Cioflanca
commented, this is an approach ‗from below‘
approach, ‗focused more on private Ryan‘s
family than on the famous Yalta percentage‘
(Cioflanca, Mihalache 2013, 11). Closing the
chapter of the previous century with a much
welcome dose of humanity and empathy is
probably the most elegant and expected
demarche of cultural history on the Romanian
soil.
The ‗otherwise‘ character of the volume
may be seen from its very cover, where O.
Bancila‘s painting from 1907 sets the mood of
the reader and the horizon of expectations. The
painting Reading the newspaper has the role of
setting the chronological boundaries from the
era of rare literacy among the Romanian
peasants to the nowadays (post-totalitarian) era
of internet, smartphones and touchscreens. The
choice of the cover is an inspired one, being
explained by the editors by the desire to avoid
the popular signs and symbols of the previous
century (belonging to totalitarian regimes). The
painting is, in editors‘ eyes, the ‗perfect allegory
of the recent history‘ (Cioflanca, Mihalache
2013, 11).
The Argument of the volume is nothing
else but the personal and different approach of
the recent history subjects, as well as the
explanation of the word ‗otherwise‘ from the
very title. The consequences of the 20th century
events and their various representations in the
collective mentality determine the always
‗otherwise‘ reception and understanding so that,
even standing in the 21st century, the dialogue
with the realities of the previous one casts a
shadow over the present. As ‗an exercise of
optimism‘, the book encompasses various
themes and motives, refusing the ‗cold
academic‘ perspective and embracing a slightly
personal approach, especially prominent in the
choice of the published material. The Recent
History Otherwise makes an attempt of
‗rehabilitating‘ the 20th century marked almost
entirely by wars and totalitarianism, still
captivating our attention and still influencing our
existence.
The definition of the term ‗recent history‘
offers the volume another argument for its
coming into existence – ‗a past in the course of
finalization that always gives us the illusion of
being able to catch it‘ (Cioflanca, Mihalache
2013, 10). In an attempt to set the chronological
limits of the ‗recent past‘, the differences of
regarding the ‗event‘ come to the foreground,
shaping our contemporary mentality and
capacity of representing and analyzing historical
events. This attempt of setting the scopes of the
‗recent past‘ is to be seen in the structure of the
volume, beginning with the chapter ‗How the
present was born‘ (Cum se năştea prezentul‘)
and ending with ‗Where does the past end?‘
(‗Unde se termină trecutul?‘), as well as ‗The
retreat from reality‘ (‗Retragere din real‘). Apart
from the mentioned chapters, there are other
nine, denoting the freshness of the proposed
perspective
and
the
‗cold
academic‘
disengagement: ‗Since other times‘ (‗De altă
dată‘); ‗Katyusha on air‘ (‗Katiuşa la
microfon‘); ‗Politics and Performance‘ (‗Politică
şi spectacol‘); ‗The Committee and the Intellect‘
(‗Comitetul şi intelectul‘); ‗The film of truth‘
(‗Pelicula de adevăr‘); ‗The daily life,
subversion,
simulacrum‘
(‗Cotidian,
subversiune, simulacru‘); ‗Playing and not
really‘ (‗În joacă şi nu prea‘); ‗The guitars don‘t
play marches‘ (‗Chitarele nu cântă marşuri‘);
‗Stories to tell‘ (‗Poveşti de spus‘).
All the mentioned sections have from
three to seven intriguing articles, encompassing
a wide range of themes and areas, exploring
various facets of the previous century from
different angles. On the other hand, the playful
and unpretentious titles of the sections are in
accordance with the title and cover of the
volume, offering a challenging and tasteful
portrait of the 20th century. As in the case of the
cover, the content of the volume manages to
avoid dramatic and superfluous themes without
giving the impression of a hygienic surgery and
209
approaching various themes ‗empathically‘. The
number of the articles dedicated to the
totalitarian regimes of the past century is not
complaisant, although one may notice the fact
that there is not an article concerning fascism,
only one researching the anti-Semitic
stereotypes in the files of the Romanian police.
This imbalance may be seen as the result of the
Romanian Communist history and its status as
an Eastern country under the influence of the
former USSR.
The first section on the dawn of the
‗present era‘ deals with mediatic disputes at the
beginning of the century at the inauguration of a
statue of a great Romanian politician – I. C.
Bratianu (Liviu Bratescu), with ‗the same
different‘ in case of anti-Semitic stereotypes in
the files of the Romanian police (Silvioara
Constantin), and with collective death
representations of the Romanian army during
WWI (Bianca Marmureanu). Other three article
of the same section reveal three other relevant
aspects of the fisrt half of the 20th century:
Dumitru Turcan explores the first narration
about the Soviet gulag, Alexandru Munteanu
presents the opposition between urban and rural
in Ion Agarbiceanu‘s writings from a surprising
perspective, while Mihai Chiper investigates the
images of decline in the inter-war city of Iasi,
focusing on lamentation as form of
remembrance.
Chronologically speaking, the second
section of the volume is still focused on the first
years of the 20th century, looking into other
cultural facets and what cultural book of the
previous century would ignore the artistic
horizons.
Thus,
Silvia
Marin-Barutcieff
researches the Belle Epoque of Jugend journal,
while Mihaela-Lucia Ion introduces us to artists,
critics and art collectors of those times. Apart
from newspaper conflicts, the past century is
known for its inventions so that Gabriela Glavan
examines the phenomenon of Radio/Cinema
Paradiso. Romania seen through the eyes of the
other during the first years of the 20th century is
the proposed approach of Nicoleta Roman,
dealing not only with a traveler perspective, but,
more specifically, with a female perspective.
‗Katyusha on air‘ consists of three
challenging articles focused, beyond doubt, on
the WWII: the war and the Romanian radio
during the war period is Ionut Nistor‘s research
based on the Romanian archives; Dana Percec‘s
centering is on trenches in war literature, while
Gabriela Welch‘s discourse is based on the
Soviet motives of sacrifice, victory and cult.
The cult of Bratianu family in Romania
(Ovidiu Buruiana), the peculiar nationalism of
the Legionary Movement (Mihai Chioveanu),
representations of abundance in the Communist
propaganda of collectivization (Sorin Mocanu)
are other facets of the third section with the
suggestive title ‗Politics and Performance‘. The
section also includes two other brilliant
researches focused on Communist celebrations
and
anniversaries:
Alexandru
Alioanei
presenting a prototype of Communist
celebrations through exploring the event called
‗The week of Romanian-Soviet friendship‘ and
Antonella Asandei exploring the symbolic
aspect
of
the
Romanian
Communist
anniversaries between 1965 and 1989.
Alternating two different perspectives – from the
tribune and from the street – and two strategies –
mobilization and repression – in Romania until
Stalin‘s death, the two authors of the article
(Adrian Cioflanca and Adriana Radu) highlight
the Romanians‘ reaction to the news of Stalin‘s
death as extensions of Stalinism mobilization
practices and of repression, as well as
purification techniques implemented on
Romanian soil.
Another inspired section entitled ‗The
Committee and the Intellect‘ points out various
artistic facets mainly during the second half of
the past century, being centered on the
Romanian artists during the ‗Democrat-Popular‘
regime (Paul Nistor), on the Romanian music
during the first years of Communism (Gabriel
Catalan), on the issues of theatre and
propaganda between 1965-1989 (Cristina
Preutu), on forms of censorship in the post-war
Romanian theatre (Oltita Cintec). History and
revolution in Camil Petrescu‘s work is the focal
point of Georgiana Lesu‘s research, while
Gabriel Moisa problematizes the notions of
‗local history‘ and ‗national history‘ in the
context of the 1985 ‗frame themes (tematicacadru) for history country museums‘.
The sixth section is dedicated to cinema,
considering mainly the multiple facets of the
Romanian cinema, such as: the Bucharest movie
collection between the myth of freedom and the
reality of the ideological intrusion presented by
Ciprian Plaiasu; the sources, methods and
problematizations of the Romanian Communist
film by Aurelia Vasile; and the category of the
‗brigand (haiduc) movie‘ as the exponent of the
myth of the social justice by Mihaela Grancea.
The single article of the section that doesn‘t
concern the Romanian context is Daniel Hanu‘s
210
‗Beyond story: on heteronormativity in Brothers
Grimm‘s fairytales and in Disney adaptations‘.
The seventh section is nothing but an
intellectual feast, tempting the reader with
various themes on the daily life of the 20th
century, be it the case of the conceptions of the
physical culture in Romania of the first half of
the past century (Bogdan Popa), of the mass
tourism in the Communist Romania of the ‘50s
(Adelina Oana Stefan), of the gender issues in
the Communist era (Raluca Bibiri) or of the
school and family issues in the Communist
Romania (Catalina Mihalache). Other two
articles look into the Communist female ideal
(Ioana Cozma) and the pop culture in Romania
of the ‘70s (Gabriel Badea), while another deals
with the Polish novel of the punk adolescent of
the ‘80s (Clara Popa). As in the case of the
previous chapter, the majority of the articles
explore the Romanian cultural background,
leaving less space to other European cultural
realities.
‗Playing and not really‘ consists of articles
pointing out playful subjects, as it is the case of
the article focused on the Romanian caricature
analysis of the ‘50s written by Mara Marginean
and Andrada Fatu-Tutoveanu or of that centered
on the universe of the comics, Gelu Teampau
highlighting ludic, subversive and ideological
components of this domain. The other two
articles deal with sportive and subversive
aspects in the image strategies of the Romanian
Communist Party between 1921 and 1946
(Diego Ciobotaru) and with the op-art
imaginary, ambience and clothing (Ioana-Iulia
Olaru), revealing a glimpse on the historicity of
forms of the 20th century.
Elvis Presley‘s reception in Romania
(Tudor Rosu), the rock music in the West and in
the Communist Romania (Serinela Pintilie), as
well as a perspective on rock, history and
memory are themes of the articles of the ninth
section, leaving the reader with the taste for
more explorations of the music realm of the
previous century.
Unlike the previous chapter, ‗Stories to
tell‘ lingers on various aspects of memory,
social imaginary and storytelling, inviting the
reader to new refined areas of interest.
Florentina Tone‘s article has an appealing
subject on the memories of the school years of a
special class from the royal palace (where the
future Romanian king Mihai had studied) (where
Mihai, the king to-be of the Romanians would
study), while Adriana Bondor deals with oral
history and cultural memory in the case of
Zlataust Street in Iasi. The archives of the 19511989 from Cluj investigate the weight of the oral
history in case of Paula Ivan‘s article, whereas
Virgil Mihaiu points out the traits of the jazz
trend in the Communist Romania in 1970-1989.
The female imaginary and the discourses on
corporality in the post-socialist Romania are the
main analyzed sides by Petruta Teampau, whilst
Ludmila D. Cojocari and Virgiliu Birladeanu
offer a perspective on WWII social memory in
the Republic of Moldova, emphasizing three
surprising components – war, alcohol and
identity – in the post-Soviet context.
The question of the chapter entitled
‗Where does the past end?‘ is answered by five
articles that accentuate several ardent topics of
the last decade of the 20th century. Sinziana
Preda expresses the changes in the postsocialistic graphic memory of Nicolae
Ceausescu and Cristian Nae analyzes the politics
of memory in the East European art after 1989,
while two other essays evinces the traces of the
‗other‘ in anthropological researches of the past
century (Cristina Bogdan) and the textualization
of the interior scenery in the autobiographical
Romanian literature between inter-war nostalgia
and Communist contamination, studying the
diaristic phenomenon from multiple hypotheses
(Andi Mihalache). The last article of this section
points out, in the light of an ex-Maoist‘s
confessions, two coordinates (activism and
penitence) of both physical and symbolic search
of Jan Wong in her writings.
‗The retreat from reality‘ may be
considered the last playful touch of the volume,
refusing the rigid chronological perspective of
the most historical books. Be it the case of
present or past, the retreat from reality is a
constant means of escape, meditation (if not
complacency), being for decades the only mean
of living otherwise than the ideology,
propaganda and censorship had dictated. From
the multicultural perspective, this section may
be regarded as the most balanced one,
containing ways of escaping reality in the
French context (‗Dream and memory – Proust‘s
metaphors of imagination‘ by Elena Prus), in the
Russian-American context (‗How to catch a
nymphet. Feminine characters in the imaginary
of Nabokov‘s novels‘ by Alexandru Budac), in
the Japanese context (‗An Orient for the
Occident. Narration and theatricality in Yasunari
Kawabata‘s prose‘ by Rodica Grigore), as well
as in the European and South American context
(‗Re-enchantment of the world. Magic realism
211
between post colonialism and postmodernism‘
by Evagrina Dirtu).
After a quick and far from all compliant
surveillance of the volume, one must admit that
it takes two courageous historians to present to
the Romanian public a search for historical,
cultural and, among others, emotional and
empathic closure concerning the still actual
realities of the 20th century. Although inclined of
exploring the Eastern cultural and unavoidable
political facets of the last century, The Recent
History Otherwise represents a refined and
tasteful account of a century that seems to refuse
leaving our social, cultural and political
actuality. The proposed empathic attitude from
the editors‘ Argument is to be noticed
throughout the volume, emphasizing remarkable
and surprising attitudes, facets and perspectives
in various domains – arts, sports, media,
collective memory, mentality and imaginary,
daily life and politics – all wrapped up in a
warm and unpretentious atmosphere closer to
the non-academic reader. With no exhaustive
claims, The Recent History Otherwise offers a
multicultural picture of the more or less painful
events and their image with subtly lighted and
shadowed aspects on the 20th century.
212
From Labor Society toward Consumer Society
(For a Cultural History of Labor) (*)
Dragoş SDROBIŞ
PhD Candidate, ‗George Bariţiu‘ Institute of History, Cluj-Napoca, Romania
E-mail: dragossdrobis@yahoo.com
For cultural history the main condition in
historical realities investigation is to wipe out
the common places of the social thinking.
Instead, cultural history aims to find out
alternative sources of investigation capable of
contributing to historical restitution. Meanwhile,
cultural history tries not to favor any historical
source, even though it is confronted with
archives and official documents or domestic
artifacts and social practices. For the cultural
historian it becomes important not to say
something, but to reveal. The pursuit of
objectiveness is no longer desirable. In fact,
Jacque Le Goff‘s phrase faire l’histoire meant
more or less a turning point in the historical
research. Cultural studies have begun to prevail
in the last decades, simply because history as a
history of humankind and humanity began to
gain ground against history as pure
retrospective. The new perspective is to see the
past through the eyes of the past. So, in order to
synchronize the past with its own present it
became necessarily for any historian to escape
his/her present. It is what David Lowenthal
called the past is a foreign country. The new
perspective developed as compulsory because of
the continuous malformation of the past: ‗What
is now known as past is not what anyone lived
as present‘ (1).
In following Lowenthal‘s advice the first
step should be the reconstruction of the people‘s
past representations. Proceeding in this manner –
exploring the way in which people used to think
and to figure out the world – the cultural history
is more or less a social history of
representations (Pascal Ory). To redo is to bring
into present something absent; in other words,
cultural history refreshes the past memory and
the present memory both. The purpose is to
prove that the absence is not inexistence, but
latency; it‘s only a perspective shift. ‗Tout est
dans le regard. Vous vous regardez dans un
miroir; fermez les yeux: votre image disparaît.
La société est à l‘instar de l‘enfant dans la cour
de récréation: elle fait comme si. Il semble bien
qu‘elle ne puisse fonctionner sans ladite
représentation […]‘ (2). These images are the
ones to create society and to build the social
individuality, by adhering or rejecting the
norms. The social individuality is thus the result
of multiple social plans: gender, sexuality, age,
generation, religious orientation or educational
credentials. ‗L‘histoire culturelle, méfiante a
priori envers les interprétations unifiées, qui
mettent en scène un homme simplifié et
rationnel, est l‘infatigable avocat d‘un être
humain traversé – et, parfois, animé – par de
contradictions (?) internes qui peuvent, par
exemple, le faire jouir à avoir peur, rêver sans
illusion ou ‹‹désirer›› simultanément et
profondément une chose et son contraire‘ (3).
The labor itself is a social norm. To
present the evolution of work from a necessity to
a defining ideological construct of the western
society is what Dominique Méda intends to do.
In fact, approaching this subject is the same as
tracing the core element that led to the
Western‘s success in dominating the rest of the
world in the last five centuries. To put it in
Jurgen Habermas words, western societies were
‗labor founded societies‘. It became a vehicle of
social order, social promotion and social
success, all three at once. This is why the labor
is considered to be ‘un fait social total’. The
labor redefined time (work time and spare time)
and imposed new social aspirations (the career,
the workaholic). Everything becomes labor and
everything comes out from labor.
Published in the Que sais-je? collection,
Le travail is structured in three chapters that
delineates the author‘s goals: 1st chapter
L’avènement du travail, 2nd chapter, Crise de
l’emploi, transformations du travail and the 3rd
(*) A review of Le travail (by Dominique Méda),
Paris, PUF, 2011, 128 p.
(1) David Lowenthal, Trecutul e o ţară străină [Past‘s
an Old Country], Bucharest, Curtea Veche, 2002,
p. 224.
(2) Pascal Ory, L’histoire culturelle, Paris, Presses
Universitaires de France, 2011, p. 10.
(3) Ibidem, p. 27-28.
213
one, Quelle place pour le travail? Méda‘s aim is
not to develop an analysis of cultural history
regarding the labor. But, in many cases, his
approach is tributary to cultural history.
The excursus begins by presenting the
labor in tribal societies which envisages this
activity only as a necessary one: ‗Les faits
sociaux qui structurent ces sociétés sont d‘une
nature
autre
qu‘économique.
Ils
sont
prioritairement sociaux, et font intervenir des
liens de sang et de parenté, des symboles, des
relations avec la nature et la tradition‘ (p. 9).
Further on, for the man of Antiquity the labor
was far away of being an ideal. Such a vision
was acknowledged by Platon and Aristotle. In
fact, for the philosophers of Hellada the
individual and social ideal was to escape
necessity and to dedicate to the truly free
activities, like ethics and politics. The reason
these two activities were considered the free
ones was that they had an end in itself. While the
slave was the human being encompassed by
necessity, the free man was supposed to nurture
the spirit of total freedom. To put it in Aristotle
words, ‗l‘homme laborieux accomplit son labeur
en vue de quelque fin qu‘il ne possède pas, mais
le bonheur est une fin qui ne s‘accompagne pas
de peine, mais de plaisir‘ (p. 11).
The labor as an ideological engine
appeared in the 16th century – the birth moment
of what Max Weber considered to be the
protestant ethic. By reinterpreting the Bible, the
conclusion reached in that moment was that
human being must be judged by what it creates
hic et nunc. The labor as ideology represented
the shift from the millenaries‘ Christian Church
vision. This new ideology asked people to give
up on just waiting for Jesus Second Advent;
instead, it guided people to action. So, labor was
not only an activity, it became a way of pursuing
happiness. Thereby, labor tends to be less a
fatigue duty and converted itself into a factor of
production. In the same manner property means
less a social border, than a mechanism to
preserve your work benefits. It is the 19th
century to develop a social and political critique
of the labor and of the society it gave birth to:
capitalism. The social-democracy critique and
Marxism emphasized the mercantile ideals that
conquered society. For these two, labor itself
was a way of losing your freedom; on the other
side, the liberals claimed that the private
property is the bought-back freedom. Whatever
the answer, the reality is that labor was already
an economic norm that `normed` the society and
the world, both. For instance, education
developed into a mechanism of professionalization allocating human capital in the
economic field. The life of any individual tends
to confound itself with his/her career.
Meanwhile, the unemployment effects reveal the
individual total workaholism. To have a job is
not only the economic premise of the social
success; it is supposed to confer also a
psychological comfort.
If in the 18th century work was a path to
emancipation, it is not the case nowadays. In the
20th century, the western societies became a
salaried society where to have a job is an
entitlement. Some benefices obtained through
union fight reveals the state involvement in
sustaining labor demands and the labor society.
‗L‘emploi leur [à travailleurs] donne un statut
qui dépasse en réalité celui qui découle
directement de leur travail‘ (1).
But western societies are in this very
moment consumer societies. And the actual
economic crisis is the one to change the way we
were used to imagine the labor, the labor society
and the world in general. In a consumer society,
the human being tends to be more than it is and
is urged to desire more than it can achieve. In
fact, individual needs are no longer a personal
decision. It is the consumer society that
multiplies and intensifies individual needs,
especially by media. That is, an artificial growth
of demands in goods or services. To put this in
Baudrillard words: ‗The human being became a
science subject for the human being when cars
became harder to sell than the production‘ (2).
Thus, consumption becomes a social activity.
The worker spare time becomes a consumption
time; he/she is encouraged to benefit the good’s
humanism. The world itself became a society of
the spectacle (Guy Debord).
At the beginning of the 21st century the
main issue tends to be the possibility (or utopia)
of transforming the western societies into spare
time societies. In fact, to talk about spare time
reveals the impossibility to escape the last two
centuries dichotomy: work time and spare time.
It is an indispensable dichotomy that keeps alive
the consumer societies: to work is to earn
money; to spend your spare time is to spend the
money. Take a look at the malls: these are the
new cathedrals of consumption. The very
(1) S. Pagaum, apud D. Méda, .cit. op., p.56.
(2) Jean Baudrillard, Societatea de consum (mituri şi
structuri) (original title: La Société de
consommation),
Bucharest,
Comunicare.ro
Publishing House, 2005, p. 91.
214
consumption is a performance, and the
individual doesn‘t want to miss the role of a
lifetime.
The consumerist frenzy and the idea that
work alienates and alters human relationships
are the main causes to look forward for a new
way to reinterpret work. The current agenda
aims labor to be no more a cause of social
exclusion and of economic inequalities. That is,
labor must not be related to the notions of
productivity or efficiency. The idea is to relate
labor to human being. What becomes necessary
– considers Dominique Méda – is to build a new
social model, in which labor and people‘s life
must cease to be separate. ‗Mais il dépendra
aussi de la capacité de l‘Europe à construire un
modèle social centré autour de la qualité du
travail, du travail décent et de la protection du
travail, objectif appuyé sur des institutions
bienveillantes‘ (p. 119).
References
Lowenthal
2002
Pascal 2011
Baudrillard
2005
215
Trecutul e o ţară străină [Past’s
an Old Country], Bucharest,
Curtea Veche, 2002.
Ory,
Pascal,
L’histoire
culturelle, Paris, Presses Universitaires de France, 2011.
Baudrillard, Jean, Societatea de
consum (mituri şi structuri)
[original title: La Société de
consommation], Bucharest, Comunicare.ro Publishing House,
2005.
The Post-Soviet Museum: History Ruptures, Memory
Continuities (*)
Ludmila D. COJOCARU
Associate Professor, Institute of Social History ‗ProMemoria‘, Moldova State University (Chişinău)
E-mail: lcojocari@promemoria.md
Museutopia. A Photographic Research Project by Ilya Rabinovich
will be of great interest
for a large audience of
people from the lovers of
photography, mu-seums,
history or Mol-dova‘s
cultural life to the
consecrated
scholars
studying visual arts, philosophy, ethnography, museology or memory
and identity through the investigation of
complex interrelationship between ‗gaze,
diaspora, trauma‘ (p. 15). The impact of dramatic transformations happened between the last
decade of socialist period and the first two
decades of post-soviet Moldova history still
constitutes a disputable topic among specialists
from different fields, as well as the emerging
public history discourses on memory, identity
and nation-building. Along the lines of Benedict
Anderson work on nationalism and identity
(Anderson 1991), the specialists in cultural
heritage Peter Aronsson and Gabriella Elgenius
consider, ‗in terms of imagination, national
museums are uniquely placed to illuminate that
which is actually imagined with reference to an
emerging, re-emerging or fully formed
‗nation‘‘(Aronsson, Elgenius 2011, 5). In this
context, the Museutopia aims to contribute to the
understanding
of
post-soviet
society
development issues by revealing ‗the
complexities and contradictions of representing
a nation state, its histories and transforming
identities‘ (p. 7). After stressing the aim of
Rabinovich art-project as ‗a welcome invitation
to decipher the hidden and implicit agendas of
museum collection and displays[; n]o matter
how sophisticated the display and arrangement
of objects, subjects and ideas is, museum always
conceal other, more delicate and political issues
that only become discernible to those who are
carefully looking out of them‘ (p. 7), the book‘s
Foreword suggests in a delicate, but very terse
manner that ‗[a]lthough the situation of the
national museums in Moldova might not be
enviable, Rabinovich‘s project illuminates that it
is amply worthy of closely attention‘ (p. 7).
The book is built mainly on a collection of
sixty five colour photographs, taken in seven
different museums in Chişinău and relates to the
period ‗from the Moldavian Soviet Socialist
Republic to the Republic of Moldova‘ (1)
Relying on the Milan Šimečka (Šimečka 1988)
assertion about organised collective forgetting in
the post-Communist society, the editors Huub
van Baar and Ingrid Commandeur appears to
remain distant from the historical context their
edited volume is related to; when pointing that
‗Rabinovich has photographically mapped the
representations of history that have appeared in
post-Communist (our underlining) national
museums in Moldova‘s capital city Chişinău‘,
they do not take into consideration the syncopate
historical development of the country where the
Communist Party came to power after the
proclamation of Moldova‘s Independence
(2001-2005, 2005-2009). So, this period
includes a part of the historical time captured by
the Rabinovich‘s photographic gaze and refers
the post-totalitarian country, but the country is
still under the power of Moldovan Communist
Party authoritarian regime (2005-2009). In spites
perpetuation of stereotyped views about
Moldova (‗one of the poorest countries of
Europe‘, p. 6; ‗a border region and a liminal
space of the current European Union‘, p. 10; ‗a
peripheral state both unto the countries of the
EU and unto the countries of the former Soviet
Union‘, p. 166; ‗at once at the borders and
(*) A review of Museutopia. A Photographic Research Project by Ilya Rabinovich (editors: Huub
van Baar, Ingrid Commandeur), Amsterdam:
Alauda Publications, 2012, 182 p., notes,
bibliography, index, photo-graphs, hard bound
[ISBN 9789081531405].
(1) ‗In the case of Museutopia, his [Rabinovich]
photographs were enhanced by the inclusion of
historical footage and texts from the museum she
visited (Chişinău, 2008-2012)‘ (van Baar,
Commandeur 2012, 181).
216
between borders‘, p. 177), I completely agree
with the editors proposal to approach this
‗journey to Moldova‘ as an opportunity to see
‗the ways in which the ‗black holes‘ that have
been hit in the past have ambiguously but
powerfully created the ground for new forms of
cultural nationalism‘ (p. 10). Native from
Moldova and interested in studying the issue of
memory and identity and the performative
dimension of nation-building project(s), I would
like to point reader‘s attention, especially of
those who are less familiar with the historical
ruptures and continuities the Moldovan society
passed through during the last centuries, that
beyond the ‗legacies of Soviet museology‘ and
‗ideological uses of history‘ in the process of
‗hesitantly building a new national identity‘ (p.
10), the Moldovan multicultural society went
through ambiguous nation-building projects,
faced with competitive and composed character
of memory communities, and still attests a
highly performative nature of the official politics
of memory and identity (see, for instance:
Dimova, Cojocaru 2013; Cojocaru 2013;
Bîrlădeanu, Cojocaru 2013). These features
combust the processes of ‗nationalisation of
culture‘ (Löfgren 1989) and constitute serious
issues in approaching the reconciliation route of
the Moldovan society. A larger context of
‗dramatic post-socialist transformations‘ (Hann
2002) can be most helpful to understand the
‗ruined Communist cultural institutions, the
poverty of history and the relics of museum
infrastructure‘ (p. 10) fixed by Rabinovich
camera lens than the editors view to present
them in the narrow conceptual frames when
‗past is still and powerfully haunting, while new
museal spaces are shaped, novel identities are
constructed and new utopias are in the making‘
(p. 11). Solving this aspect can allows
Museutopia to pass beyond its aim of
questioning artistically ‗the way in which the fall
of Communism has generated new forms of
cultural representation‘ (p. 12) and, therefore, to
open new insights for understanding the
challenges of history ruptures and memory
continuities in the post-totalitarian society.
The
edited
volume
frames
the
‗photographic research project‘ by a series of
essays ‗that engage with and reflect on‘ the
artworks presented by Rabinovich (p. 12). The
first two essays preceding the staging of artproject are built on the dialog with Ilya
Rabinovich. When the first essay (by Victor
Misiano) is developed from the perspective of an
artist ‗in exile‘ with ‗passionless gaze‘ (p. 20),
the next presentation (by Huub van Baar) allows
the artist to reflect on twofold meaning of, as he
uses to call it, the ‗reverse engineering‘ method
(p. 30): first, inverting the gaze and therefore ‗to
encourage the spectator to focus on the context
of how things were done, rather than letting her
or him accept and repeat the narratives of the
exhibited artefacts‘; second, aiming ‗to
photograph all the sites the Communist Party‘s
ideological museums used to be and research the
archives
where
the
exhibition
and
documentation materials of the former
ideological museums are preserved‘ (p. 30-31).
The next two essays aim to present the
Rabinovich works in a more general historical
perspective (by Ştefan Rusu) and, respectively,
in the context of critical museum studies (by
Bogdan Ghiu). Rusu considers important to
contextualise the ‗phenomenon of the distorted
representation of history in Moldova‘ (p. 161)
and states the post-1989 ‗urge the return to the
values and symbols that had existed before the
invasion of the URSS [1940, 1944]‘ which in his
view was only ‗the start of a long process of
coming to terms with a new identity‘ (p. 162).
Ghiu points at the sensitive issue of
contemporary museums, including the national
museums from the Republic of Moldova (‗being
identity industries, museums are also constantly
searching for their own identity‘, p. 169) and
suggests a complex approach toward the concept
of modern museum (‗history has to move on‘ p.
177).
The essays and the selection of
photographs complement each other in a
coherent way, especially in terms of helping
readers to find ‗the hidden story‘ (p. 24) behind
the photographs (‗each of the works discussed
could be characterised by its attempt to engage
the viewer in an active and reflexive process of
viewing, p. 17) and to read between lines the
Rabinovich ‗fragmented life‘ (p. 15) (‗my works
are an attempt to create continuity, a history and
coherent identity for myself, by reflecting the
strangeness of the places where I have lived, p.
20) as reflected in a strong relationship between
individual and national identity dilemma (‗I am
convinced that the difficulties I am facing are
symptomatic, not only on a personal level but
also on a national one, p. 20).
In spites the fact that many issues
remained beyond this book discussion, the
edited volume is a great result of the whole team
involved in this trans-disciplinary project (‗I
wanted to challenged the stories they [the
institutes] tell and the identities they create and
217
put them in more complex contexts‘, p. 31). The
study of Moldovan national museums as
significant cultural institution and actor in
building collective memory and identity has
been neglected for a long period of time in the
Republic of Moldova. The roles these
institutions can play in different historical
contexts do not have the same trajectories and
meanings in any post-totalitarian society. At the
same time, ‗the national museums are the result
of the negotiated logics between science and
politics, universalism and particularism,
difference and unity, change and continuity,
materiality and imagination‘ (Aronsson,
Elgenius 2011, 5). Following the Rabinovich
statement, I consider ‗Museutopia represents
both an ironic and a critical response to the
current situation in Moldova‘ (p. 38). The well
crafted design of the book and the sensitive
approach of this art-project can serve, in my
opinion, both as source for new knowledge
accretion as well as a resource for building new
studies.
Chapters in books:
Aronsson, Peter, Gabriella
Aronsson,
Elgenius, ‗Making National
Elgenius
Museums in Europe – A
2011
Comparative Approach‘. In:
Peter Aronsson, Gabriella
Elgenius
(eds.),
Building
National Museums in Europe
1750-2010, EuNaMus report
no. 1, University of Linköping,
2011.
Bîrlădeanu, Virgiliu, Cojocaru,
Bîrlădeanu,
Ludmila, ‗Război, alcool,
Cojocaru
identitate. Al Doilea Război
2013
Mondial în memoria socială a
Republicii Moldova (20012009)‘. In: Andi Mihalache,
Adrian
Cioflâncă
(eds.),
Istoria recentă altfel. Perspective culturale, Iaşi, ‗Alexandru
Ioan Cuza‘ University Press,
2013, p. 877-887.
Cojocaru,
Ludmila,
Cojocaru
‗Republica Moldova, Patria
2013
mea!‘ The Moldavian NationBuilding Project in Search of
Reification and Legitimacy‘.
In: Ulf Brunnbauer, Hannes
Gradits (eds.), The Ambiguous
Nation. Case Studies from
Southeastern Europe in the
20th Century, Oldenbourg,
Wissenschaftsverlag, 2013, p.
283-305.
References
Books & edited volumes:
Anderson, Benedict Imagined
Anderson
Communities, London, Verso
1991
Books, 1991.
Dimova, Rozita, Cojocaru,
Dimova,
Ludmila D., (guest eds),
Cojocaru
‗Politics and Performance in
2013
South-Eastern Europe‘, special
issues
of
History
and
Anthropology,
London,
Routledge, 24/1, 2013.
Hann, Chris, Postsocialism:
Hann 2002
Ideals, Ideologies and Practices in Eurasia, London,
Routledge, 2002.
Van Baar, Huub, Ingrid
van Baar,
Commandeur Commandeur (eds.), Museutopia. A Photographic Re2012
search Project by Ilya Rabinovich, Amsterdam, Alauda
Publications, 2012.
Löfgren, Orvar, ‗The NationaLöfgren
lization of Culture‘. In:
1989
Ethnologia Europae, XlX
1989, p. 5-23.
Šimečka,
Milan,
‗Black
Šimečka
Holes‘.
In:
Index
on
1988
Censorship, 17/5 1988, p. 5255.
218
Cultural History. Journal of the International Society for Cultural
History, Volume 1, Numbers 1 and 2/2012
Alexandru-Ilie MUNTEANU
PhD Student, ‗1 Decembrie 1918‘ University of Alba Iulia
E-mail: alexandru_munteanu21@yahoo.com
Whatever the context, each and every
time I run into the name of Peter Burke and/or
into the word cultural history, I can‘t help not
thinking, not reminding myself a very broad,
yet in the same time, brief statement made by
the British historian already mentioned, in
which, in no more than a few words, he
describes the contemporary context (from the
last two-three decades, to put it more general)
of historical studies and that of social sciences
and of the humanities in general. Here is what
Peter Burke says: ‗We live in an era where the
intellectual border lines between different
fields of study are open, (…). References
about Mihail Bahtin, Pierre Bourdieu, Fernand
Braudel, Norbert Elias, Michel Foucault,
Clifford Geertz can be found in the the works
of archaeologists, geographers and literary
critics, as well as in those of the sociologists
and historians‘ (245) (Burke 1992, 31). The two
numbers of Cultural History. Journal of the
International Society for Cultural History
make no exception from this state of affairs.
Both, Number 1 and Number 2, are
from the same first volume that appeared in
2012, at Edinburgh University Press. As it is
mentioned on the interior side of the Journal’s
cover: ‗Cultural History publishes research
papers on cultural history, covering any period
or location, along with discussions of
theoretical issues, and papers concerned with
fields such as teaching, museums and heritage.
Cultural History promotes the work and aims
of the International Society for Cultural
History, which was founded in 2008. It
generates discussion and debate on the nature
of cultural history and current trends, and
advances theoretical and methodological
issues relating to the field. Cultural History
promotes new and innovative questions about
the past, and invites contributions from both
advanced and junior scholars.‘
The first number covers 150 pages,
with an additional three pages (v-vii), that
make up the Editorial, signed by Marjo
Kaartinen, professor of Cultural History from
the University of Turku, Finland, and by
David F. Smith, Honorary Senior Lecturer at
the Center for Cultural History, from the
University of Aberdeen, Scotland. Following
the Editorial, is a number of six articles,
ranging from the more theoretical and
methodologically orientated, like Peter
Burke‘s opening paper, Strengths and
Weaknesses of Cultural History, and Harvey
Green‘s Cultural History and the Material(s)
Turn, to articles like: The Watchful Spirit:
Religious Anxieties towards Sleep in the
Notebooks of Nehemiah Wallington (15981658), written by Erin Sullivan246, Kipling’s
Encounter with Buddhism and the Buddhist
Orient: ‘The Twain Shall Meet?’, by David
Scott, or Christopher E. Forth‘s, Melting
Moments: The Greasy Sources of Modern
Perceptions of Fat, or The Study of Social
Control in the Context of Cultural History: An
Interdisciplinary
Approach,
by
Lauri
Keskinen.
There is also one Review Article, written
by Joyce Goggin, De-Materialization in a
Material World: Two Cultural Histories of
Capital, a very interesting review paper on
Irene Finel-Honigman (2010), A Cultural
History of Finance, London and New York:
Routledge, and on Dieter Schnaas (2010),
Kleine Kulturgeschichte des Geldes, Mnchen:
Wilhelm Fink Verlag, that emphasises the
increasingly stronger bond between culture,
entertainment and economy in our present
society (see p. 126-129,134 etc).
Finally, there are two more sections, one
called Reviews, the other Brief Reviews, each
having three reviews. The first is Philip
Daileader and Philip Whalen (eds) (2010),
French Historians 1900-2000: New Historical
Writing in Twentieth-Century France,
reviewed by Elizabeth C. Macknight; then,
there is Karla Mallette (2010), European
(245) Author‘s translation from the Romanian
edition of the book.
246
14.
219
Winner: ISCH annual essay competition. See p.
Modernity and the Arab Mediterranean:
Towards a New Philology and a CounterOrientalism, reviewed by Jacob Egholm Feldt;
Steven Connor (2010), The Matter of Air:
Science and Art of the Ethereal, is the final
book, reviewed by Assimina Kaniari. The
Brief Reviews are in the following order:
Melissa Calaresu, Filippo de Vivo and JoanPau Rubiés (eds) (2010), Exploring Cultural
History: Essays in Honour of Peter Burke,
reviewed by Uta Protz; T. J. Boisseau and
Abigail M. Markwyn (eds) (2010), Gendering
the Fair: Histories of Women and Gender at
World’s Fairs, reviewed by Hannah Farmer;
Stephen Greenblatt (2010), Shakespeare’s
Freedom, reviewed by Karel Vanhaesebrouck.
The first two articles mentioned above
(‗the methodologically orientated ones‘) are,
as I said before, related in many aspects.
Besides treating epistemological problems of
cultural history (247) ‗and its neighbour
discipline cultural studies‘ (see Burke‘s paper,
p.1) these articles are deeply inter-connected
in, what I think, a very interesting and
suggestive manner. Peter Burke makes a
statement in which he puts the numerous turns
and the never-ending battle between
researchers about what matters most, the
material or the cultural, in the position of a
weakness. Then along comes Harvey Green‘s
paper which argues that there is a ‗material(s)
turn‘ even to the cultural turn, to cultural
history in general, because studying culture
and writing cultural history implies studying
forms of material culture, (artifacts,
architecture, contemporary cultural history
books etc). I am not saying that the author is
wrong, on the contrary, his arguments, based
on ‗case studies‘ (mostly books (248) and
vernacular architecture), are well constructed
and it is impossible not to take them into
account. But, that doesn‘t stop Green‘s article
to be proof of Burke‘s statements about the
volatile nature of the methodological and
epistemological foundations of cultural history
(see Green‘s definition of culture at p. 61),
which he (Burke) calls it to be a method of
research, or just as ‗history written from a
particular angle or viewpoint (see p. 7), rather
than a rigidly enclosed field of study in
historical research.
Erin Sullivan‘s paper, The Watchful
Spirit: Religious Anxieties towards Sleep in the
Notebooks of Nehemiah Wallington (15981658) is the winner of the annual ISCH prize,
in 2012. This article is a fascinating foray into
the very intimacy of an ordinary Puritan
believer, Nehemiah Wallington, from 17th
century England. It gives the reader insights on
the daily life schedule and, even more
interesting, on how religion, spiritual beliefs
influence it. The author‘s sources consisted in
Wallington‘s personal journal, or notebooks,
which the author balanced with, for example,
medicine books contemporary with Nehemiah,
thus offering the reader a close perspective on
17th century ‗medical-religious‘ encounters.
Sullivan‘s article is indeed an example of
cultural history writing by its intimate
approach on individual 17th century beliefs
(culture), and especially, as I mentioned
before, on how these beliefs, these cultural
traits of a person can influence pure ‗material‘
realities: personal health, daily schedule (the
hours when Nehemiah went to sleep every
night were determined by his thoughts
concerning a healthy spiritual life) etc.
The journal‘s last three articles deal with
different aspects from the 19th century,
ranging, geographically speaking, from
Northern Europe to the Far East.
The first of them, David Scott‘s article,
Kipling’s Encounter with Buddhism and the
Buddhist Orient: ‘The Twain Shall Meet’?,
like Sullivan‘s, remains on an individual level
in the sense that it is concerned also with
personal/individual beliefs, this time of a
British novelist, who, in his travels,
‗discovers‘ that the Buddhist Orient is
somewhat superior to the rest of Asia. The
author analyses how Kipling‘s ‗cultural
images‘, or ethno-images, help build his
novels‘ characters, suggesting that by his
literary Kipling maintained a favorable image,
fueled a London trend at the beginning of the
20th century, that of a sympathy and attraction
of the London inhabitants towards Buddhism.
Although not a big inconvenient, a clearer
(247) Among the weaknesses that Peter Burke talks
about in his article are: the various turns and
approaches which can disorientate the average
reader on what cultural history really is; the
relativity in defining the term culture; the
constant come-and-go between specialists in
showing which matters the most: material
causes or cultural ones etc.
(248) For example, Wood: Craft, Culture, History
(2006) written by H. Green himself.
220
Foucault‘s concept of practice) with social
sciences, the result being an interesting
perspective on the social activity of learning,
thus that of enculturation applied to Finnish
working class milieus (see especially p.115
(250), 118-122).
In comparison with the first, Number 2
of Cultural History is shorter in page numbers
(from p. 151 to p. 174), with another two
pages (p. v-vi), where scholars are being
encouraged to submit their papers, and where
there is also a brief description and some piece
of information on how and whom to send them
in order to be eligible for the ISCH prize of
250 GBP.
Besides the ISCH Prize 2013 for
Cultural Historians, the journal is divided into
four sections:
1. Cultural History – Now, with two
papers, Thomas V. Cohen‘s Ruminations on
Reflections on a Distant Crime, and Kalle
Pihlainen‘s Cultural History and the
Entertainment Age.
2. Articles, is the second part of the
journal, which has three papers. These are:
Threading the Needle, Pulling the Press:
Gender, Skill and the Tools of the Trade in
Eighteenth-Century European Towns, by
Deborah Simonton; With Culture Comes the
Nation: Women, Cultural Citizenship and Late
Nineteenth-Century New Zealand, written by
Nadia Gush, and the third, ‗Herein is Love’:
Performance and Identity in Three Welsh
Memento Mori, by Lynne Moore.
The last two sections of the journal are
Reviews and Brief Reviews, each also having
three reviews: Esther Cohen (2010), The
Modulated Scream: Pain in Late Medieval
Culture, reviewed by Jan Franz van
Dijkhuizen; Ina Zweiniger-Bargielowska
(2011), Managing the Body: Beauty, Health,
and Fitness in Britain, 1880-1939, reviewed
by Susan Hogan; and Laura Salisbury and
Andrew Shail (eds) (2010), Neurology and
Modernity: A Cultural History of Nervous
Systems, 1800-1950, reviewed by Clark
Lawlor. The brief reviews are: Joy Parr (2010),
Sensing Changes: Technologies, Environments
and the Everyday, 1953-2003, reviewed by
Donna McCormack; Stephanie Stockhorts
distinction, or less generalization on this
London trend, would have be desirable.
Personally, I find it very hard to believe that,
for example, the next generations of the
‗London labor and the London poor‘ (249)
shared the same passion towards Buddhism.
Still David Scott‘s paper shows us a
suggestive case of cultural encounters, of the
mental, or ‗cultural aftermath‘ of an
‗Edwardian‘s‘ encounter with Asia in general,
because the author mentions the British
novelists‘ impression on Islamic as well as on
Buddhist Asia.
The last two articles, Christopher E.
Forth‘s Melting Moments: The Greasy Sources
of Modern Perceptions of Fat, and Lauri
Keskinen The Study of Social Control in the
Context of Cultural History: An Interdisciplinary Approach, leave the individual
‗historical microscope‘ and analyze social and
cultural phenomenon at a more collective
level: Forth‘s paper deals with European‘s
perception of fat, with a few mentions from
the Antiquity period, but focuses on ‗the shit
of perception‘ from 1500‘s onward. The
author builds his paper from an anonymous
article published in 1822 in Blackwood´s
Edinburgh Magazine, which argued that the
English ‗took up more space on the streets‘,
meaning that they are the fattest people on the
planet, and that from all that fat the English
industry could produce soap for the entire
planet. From this, the author starts constructing
and diversifying his research on perceptions of
fat, reaching even how the Europeans‘
negative perception of fat made its
contribution to their feelings of superiority
over Africans in the 19th century, which
according to European travelers were, many of
them, very fat.
Lauri Keskinen paper analyses how new
ideas, in this case, class based cultural trends,
or for those times better call them sub-trends,
can strengthen social ties between the labour
class in interwar Finland, even to the point
where it becomes a subculture and more, as
the author argues, a form of social control.
Keskinen focuses on different sport clubs and
associations which offered the working class
of Finland‘s few industrial centers a sense of
belonging. The author‘s interdisciplinary
approach
combines
behavioural
(like
(250) ―By definition, (social) control is an activity,
or a practice, carried out by a socializing agent,
even without the agent or the one socialized
noticing it‖.
(249) Inspired by Henry Mayhew‘s (2008) London
labour and the London poor.
221
a local theft in small community in 16th
century Italy and from this, he begins to unfold
certain problems and difficulties concerning
the reconstruction of historical events from a
cultural viewpoint, like: what significance
(cultural symbolism) did certain social and
individual gestures and rituals had in the past?
(see p. 162) or the difficulties that spring from
the ‗shifting meanings of material things‘ (see
p. 161), like grain, in this article‘s case, and
the temptation to use patterns, which
epistemologically may come in handy and
deliver a very professional approach, but in the
same time, as Cohen argues, one must keep in
mind that: ‗The last thing cultural historians
should be doing is exemplifying yet once more
the tiresome wisdom of some charismatic
theory‘ (see p. 163) (252).
In the next section, as it can be
distinguished from the titles, the articles focus
on gender related historical phenomena.
Deborah Simonton‘s paper Threading the
Needle, Pulling the Press: Gender, Skill and
the Tools of the Trade in Eighteenth-Century
European Towns deals with two interesting
concepts, that of gender tools and gender(ed)
skills, referring to needles and needlework,
which were associated with women labour,
and with women‘s access to workshop labour
and even businesses, in general, in 18th century
European cities and towns. Although focusing
on the situation in Great Britain (there is a
statistical table at p. 188 and 18th century
books, cited by the author, one written in
1761, by Joseph Collyer, for example, in
which he recommends the use of ‗genteel
persons‘ in millinery; see p. 190), the author
makes some references about the general
European manufacturing and trading context.
In her article, With Culture Comes the
Nation: Women, Cultural Citizenship and Late
Nineteenth-Century New Zealand, Nadia Gush
analyzes the concept of ‗cultural citizenship‘, a
relatively new concept according to the author
and how this concept can be applied to the
(ed.) (2010), Cultural Transfer Through
Translation: The Circulation of Enlightened
Thought in Europe by Means of Translation,
reviewed by Silke Reeploeg, and, the last,
Patrick Coleman (2011), Anger, Gratitude and
the Enlightenment Writer, reviewed by
Brendan Dooley.
Following the same line as the first
publication of the ISCH journal in 2012, the
second number of Cultural History begins, not
with one, but with two articles regarding
epistemological and methodological problems
related to cultural history. The author, Kalle
Philainen, sketches the place of (cultural)
historical writing in the so called entertainment
age. Although heavily loaded with theoretical
and epistemological aspects concerned with
writing history (relativity, objectivity, the role
of ideology in historical writing, truth, social
responsibility of historians etc), Philainen‘s
article emphasizes a crucial aspect that
concerns not only historians and their (way of)
writings, but also the public‘s ‗taste‘ for
history (251). At one point in his paper (see p.
176), the author comes close to putting the
problem in the following terms: history must
either give up ‘a bit‘ on the value of truth, and
to be a bit more ‗untrue‘ (as the author says) or
it risks of remaining somewhat marginal in
popular imagery and social impact. But then,
he does say that: ‗this ‗alternative‘ is not a
very useful one for history since the
‗entertainment age‘ presents histories with
another trap: the ‗entertainment trap‘: (…)‘.
What is the author proposition? To put it very
short: resisting the desire to entertain, keeping
its ‗documentary‘ aspect, history should not
become ‗fictional‘, instead it should:‘look to
its ‗material‘ nature‘ and to the latter‘s
disruptive potential vis-à-vis stories (see p.
177).
Thomas V. Cohen‘s article revolves
around the same epistemological problems of
writing cultural history. Like Philainen, from
one point of view, Cohen also points out a
certain need of change in the way cultural
historians begin their research and especially
in the way they write/‘deliver‘ it (to the public)
(see p. 164). Cohen‘s paper starts by narrating
(252)
(251) A starting historiographical reference on this
topic would be Philippe Ariès‘s book, Le
Temps de l’histoire (for this review, I
consulted the Romanian edition of the book –
see Ariès 1997).
222
Here a recent reading of mine comes in my
mind. Although written about four decades
ago, it signals the same problem and the ups
and downs of applying all sorts of patterns and
other scientist models to a large number of
unique! and sublunary! historical events. The
book I am referring to is Comment on écrit
l'histoire: essai d'épistémologie (1970), written
by French historian and archaeologist, Paul
Veyne (see Veyne 1999).
Imperial white settler society of New Zealand.
She focuses on the role played in the
emancipation of women and on the general
building process of new, conscious,
participatory citizens by women organizations,
like Canterbury Women‘s Institute (founded in
1892) and the National Council of Women
(1896). An emancipation which could also be
called culturalization, because these two main
organizations paid special attention to cultural
based initiatives, like ‗women‘s newspapers‘
(written by and for women) and literature.
‗Reading constituted the citizen‘ (see p. 211),
was the core belief that animated this type of
actions. All of these in order to encourage
them to embrace a different civic status, that of
‗citizenship as /(by, a.n.) self cultivation‘ (see
p. 215). Finally, a particular aspect which I
consider it to be very well underlined by the
author, is her statement, in the paper‘s
conclusions, about the fact that this
nation/citizenship building process, the way
we understand to do it: ‗is responsible for
establishing parameters of inclusion and
exclusion for the people who might hope to be
imagined within it‘ (see p. 219-220) (253).
The last paper of Number 2 of the ISCH
journal, Lynne Moore‘s ‘Herein is Love’:
Performance and Identity in Three Welsh
Memento Mori, despite being well organized
and having strong bibliographical references
(254), with chapters about ‗theoretical
considerations‘ in which the author defines the
concepts and terms which she uses (e.g.
performance,
memento mori,
identity,
community etc), this article, however, might
seem a bit harder to follow from beginning to
conclusions, especially for non native English
speakers, because of the abstract notion of
‗performance‘ (that of ‗culturally coded
patterns of behavior‘, see p. 227) which is
referred to in this paper centered on three
shrine-like memento mori: one of a Welsh
family, another of a Swansea Lord and of one
group of copper workers. Still, Lynne Moore
offers the reader interesting interpretations
regarding the mementos‘ intrinsic suggestions
that come out of them, viewed both
individually as well as in a more general
Victorian context.
To sum up, the articles in these two
numbers of Cultural History could be divided
also into two large sections: the first category
would be the one of the ‗historically‘ centered
papers, like: With Culture Comes the Nation:
Women, Cultural Citizenship and Late
Nineteenth-Century New Zealand, by Nadia
Gush, Threading the Needle, Pulling the
Press: Gender, Skill and the Tools of the
Trade in Eighteenth-Century European Towns,
by Deborah Simonton, The Watchful Spirit:
Religious Anxieties towards Sleep in the
Notebooks of Nehemiah Wallington (15981658), by Erin Sullivan, Kipling’s Encounter
with Buddhism and the Buddhist Orient: ‘The
Twain Shall Meet’?, by David Scott etc.
Secondly there would be the section of the
more methodological and epistemological
writings like: Thomas V. Cohen‘s Ruminations
on Reflections on a Distant Crime, Kalle
Pihlainen‘s Cultural History and the
Entertainment Age, or Peter Burke‘s Strengths
and Weaknesses of Cultural History, and
Harvey Green‘s Cultural History and the
Material(s) Turn. The latter category of
papers, those that deal with how to write
cultural history, are, I believe, a testimony of a
new stage in the development of historical
research and (cultural) history writing. A time
both intellectually productive, but one that also
witnesses a sort of a crisis, or otherwise said, a
period that resembles, a bit, with a desperate
search
for
better,
more
flexible
epistemological ‗tools‘. But, no need to
despair, for times of crisis may announce
periods of new type of writing. In this logic,
Cohen‘s paper and Pihlainen‘s tempt me to
address
the
following
question:
do
epistemological aspects weight really that
much when writing about totally nonscientific/non-scientist, sublunary events and
beliefs?
(253) Also on this subject (but in the case of post
World War 2 France) see, for example, from
Jean Sévilla‘s book, Le terrorisme intellectuel
(2000), chapter Black, blanc, beur. (for this
review I consulted the Romanian version of the
book – see Sévilla 2007).
(254) See for example the first paragraph (and not
only) on page 228, which is packed with
footnotes.
References
Ariès
1997
223
Ariès, Philippe, Timpul istoriei
[Time of History], Bucharest,
Meridiane, 1997.
Burke
1992
Mayhew
2008
Burke, Peter, Istorie şi teorie
socială [History and Social
Theory], Bucharest, Humanitas,
1992.
Mayhew, Henry, London labour
and the London poor. A Selection
by Rosemary O’Day and David
Englander, Hertfordshire Wordsworth Editions Limited, Ware,
2008.
Sévilla
2007
Veyne
1999
224
Sévilla,
Jean,
Terorismul
intelectual
[Intellectual
terrorism], Bucharest, Humanitas,
2007.
Veyne, Paul, Cum se scrie istoria
[Writing History. Essay on
Epistemology], Bucharest, Meridiane, 1999.
Artefacts Culture and Identity. International History for Cultural
History Annual Conference
(Istanbul, 11-14 September 2013)
Radu-Ciprian ŞERBAN
PhDc, ‘1 Decembrie 1918’ University of Alba Iulia, Romania
Given the title of the conference, most of
the participants – there were more than a
hundred scholars and students – chose to
contribute with works on realities, practices and
objects representative for local history (from all
over the globe).
With each of its meanings – 1) an object
made by a human being, typically one of
cultural or historical interest, and 2) something
observed in a scientific investigation or
experiment that is not naturally present but
occurs as a result of the preparative or
investigative procedure – the artefact was an
ideal choice to suggest the generous ‗limits‘ of
issues that the conference were interested in.
There obviously were several proposals
for theoretical discussion on concepts (for e.g.
memory boxes), on connections between cultural
history and psychology, on limits of memory
and experience or ‗autological‘ studies of
cultural history (about ‗the invention of culture‘
or about ‗the long history of cultural history‘).
They
demonstrate
interest
in
the
conceptualization, the sustained search to
promote this type of history as a history of its
own. Presentations and debates following one
after the other brought into attention problems
related to memory and oblivion, national
identities, phenomena or practices (e.g. from the
medieval love of friends to the post-modern
same-sex love, gifting, death and healing
festival, the practice of misappropriation,
culinary customs, attitude toward other‘s
culture, real and imaginary borders). They
discussed competences (reading an Exhibition)
or statutes of individuals (the worker, the
woman) in different epochs.
Arts and the objects themselves were
given the full attention, from figurative art
works, furniture, textile, medals, libraries,
photography (and even the Finnish wolves) to
music, dance, cinematic heritage, architecture,
fiction - not to mention the so called ―virtual
artefacts‖, as social media.
Since it is one of the most widely factors
of union and dissension, and thus a ‗good‘
reason to make distinction between identities,
religion – with its specific objects, practices and
manifestations – could not miss the attention of
researchers. On this topic, I attended the
interesting presentation about a reconstructed
identity in Finnish Lapland (Whose heritage,
and whose tradition?), but most fascinating on
this topic was the visit to the Armenian Hospital
Museum in Istanbul – there is also an Armenian
church – where the assistant professor Inanç
Özekmekçi told us about aspects on history of
Armenian identity preservation/re-construction
in the Ottoman space.
As already shown, the issue of ethnicity
and ‗race‘ was present also. I remember that
even in the last day the conference remained as
captivating as it used to be. The last paper put
down in the program (Revista illustrada:
esthetic and resistance on the political art of
Angelo Agostini), that of professor Rogéria de
Ipanema, brought into attention the personal
enterprise of a journalist against the slavery in
the Empire of Brazil. I remember well those
‗satiric poetry creating a morphology of
contestation and protest‘, those images that the
presenter of the paper talked about with the
same passion and charm we talked in the little
breaks we had from a session to another.
As a paradox, some things are subject to
oblivion even though they stay in a great
museum. Obviously, a conference is not an
object. As for me, this was the first international
conference that I attended abroad, and will not
forget it. I guess each one would be grateful to
the organizers (especially to Rainer Brömer,
Philipp Amour, Hakan Ertin and Inanç
Özekmekçi). Friendly discussion, cultural
exchange, scientific news – we had all these in a
few sunny days at Istanbul! The conference
progressed smoothly and appeared well planned
to all.
Finally yet importantly, during a
Bosphorus cruise I meet Professor Peter G.
McCaffery who friendly asked me questions
about Romania. I hope my text will be a little
piece among things remembering us about him.
225

BRUKENTHALIA Romanian Cultural History Review Supplement of

Transcription

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